Page 94 of You Again

“Thanks,” I whisper, facing the field and hoping the others will, too. “I bought an extra ticket for Zev. But I don’t know if he’s coming.”

“For Zev,” Fran says, and when she turns slow and steady to peer at me, Stella and Maggie are looking, too.

“Yeah.” I lick my lips and pretend I’m not on display. I yank the Red Tails hat from my head—it’s useless! “He must be at work because he hasn’t responded to my text yet.”

“Oh, I’d wager he’s at work,” Maggie says. She looks at Stella who looks at her right back.

I narrow my brow and focus on Fran rather than the women who are so good at making me feel jumbled. My body is tensing and trembling on the inside. It so easily resorts to panic these days.

“I wanted you two to meet. But we can always try another day.”

“Maggie!” A man in a Red Tails’ jersey jogs from the team tunnel next to our seats, looking into the stands where we sit. Maggie smiles, natural and wide. Then she steps up to the wall separating us from the field and leans over the partition. She plants a kiss on the man’s lips. He grins, then scans over to Stella, Fran, and then me. “Rosalie,” he says, his tone excited, his accent something I can’t quite place. Then he hoists himself up and over the wall separating us.

“Lucca!” Maggie laughs as the man joins us in the stands.

He steps in front of me and half a second later, I am pulled into a hug—by a man I never remember meeting. “We’ve missed you.” He sets that charming grin on me, but I don’t feel charmed. I am anxious. I am being hugged by a stranger. Apparently, I picked the worst day ever to leave my house. Finally, he releases me. With one more kiss to Maggie’s lips, he’s over the partition and back on the field.

“And that’s Lucca,” Fran says, her words clipped.

“Lucca Cruz?” I ask. Millie mentioned him just minutes ago.

“Yes.” Fran gulps, questioning eyes on me. “You⁠—”

“No, I do not remember him. Someone said his name earlier.”

“Are you okay?” Fran asks, her words a whisper meant only for me.

I blow out a trembling breath and peek past my friend to the other women here. They both stare at the field. At least they aren’t looking at me anymore. “Honestly, I’m not sure.” But I haven’t fallen into a panic attack that steals my breath and the use of my legs. So, I think I must be sort of okay. “How many times did I come to these games?”

“Um, often,” she says, and her tone tells me that is an understatement. I suppose I should have gotten that from Dave at will-call knowing my name.

“And I was friends with these women?” I whisper. My heart is now in my throat.

“Yes.” Her hand finds mine at my side and she laces our fingers. “You’re doing great.”

I don’t feel like I’m doing great though. I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread. Like I’m lucky I’m still standing.

I could leave. I don’t have to stay here. I could text Zev and tell him, Never mind, don’t come, I had to go.

“There’s something else that you should possibly know.” Fran swallows, her brown eyes focused on me.

Her lips move—but I don’t hear any more of her words.

Because Callum just walked out of the team tunnel we sit by, and next to him, shoulder to shoulder, is Zev.

My Zev.

He runs a hand through his red hair and laughs at something Callum has said. He’s wearing team sweatpants and a Red Tails’ jersey with the number five on his back. The name Hayes written in big block letters. It’s his jersey.

“Zev’s a Red Tail,” I say, my breath hitching.

“Yes,” Fran whispers.

“You already know him.” The blood drains from my face and my legs feel weak with the realization.

“You knew him, too, sweetie,” Fran says.

The view in front of me—Zev and Callum walking—blurs and my heart threatens to stop. My knees give out on me and I dip, no longer able to stand on my own.