Page 18 of Hard Rain

Team photos.

Muddy uniforms.

Teenagers trying too hard to look tough for the camera.

One picture held Axel mid-hit during a rain game, helmet lowered while Whip disappeared beneath the collision entirely.

“Got you good that game,” Axel smirked, aiming his bottle at the photo.

“Don’t forget who owns that trophy,” Whip pointed out.

Axel smirked. “Don’t forget who put your ass in the hospital.”

“Cheap shot.”

“Legal hit.”

“You outweighed me by forty pounds. Still do,” Whip pointed out.

“That’ll teach you to play with the big boys.”

“Ya’ll played some of the best ball I ever seen,” old man Snook said from his spot at the bar.

“Hell, right they did. I paid two dollars just to watch those two try to kill each other on the field,” Stacy hollered from a nearby table.

Whip took another swallow of beer while his gaze drifted across the old photographs automatically.

Rain game. Fourth quarter. Fern down by three against Bend. Axel coming off the line like a freight train with mud halfway up his legs.

Whip remembered all of it.

The smell of wet grass. Stadium lights glaring white through the rain. The exact second he’d realized Axel wasn’t slowing down before impact.

“You brought flowers to the hospital,” Whip said lightly.

Axel snorted beside him. “My mom made me.”

Whip smirked. “Pretty sure she made you bring chocolate too, but you ate it.”

“She did, and I did.”

“And I remember asking you out on a date.”

Axel barked a laugh so sudden that a couple of people glanced over.

“You were drugged, and I punched you.”

“Technically, it was a hard push.”

“I still did it.”

“Then the doctor kicked you out.”

Axel grimaced into his beer. “Fucker called the school and got me suspended for three days for that.”

Whip smirked faintly. “Worth it?”

“Punching you?”