Page 2 of First Down Promise

“Like I did with Mom and Dad that one time?” I ask, and a smile of my own tries to tug at my lips.

“Yep. You’ll make friends. You know Josh.” My smile disappears as I suck in a breath at the mention of his name. “And Dane. You’re going to like Cooper, but we call him Coop. He’s going into his second year as the starting center.” Pete’s eyebrows raise, and he laughs under his breath. “He’s a good country boy from ‘Bama and doesn’t let us forget it.” But everything after Josh’s name became background noise.

The bubbly, magnetic veteran starting tight end for the Stallions has more boyish charm than should be allowed in one person, Texas grit from his roots, and a goofy personality that doesn’t match his huge physique. Josh has been seen with models and influencers—each one hitting me with a cruel pang of envy, but none of them lasted.

I wipe beneath my nose and keep my eyes low. “I hope you’re not trying to set me up,” I joke about Coop.

“No, he’s just closer in age to you than Dane and Josh. I know they intimidate you.” I’ve kept my two-year-old crush on Josh under wraps, and I want to correct him and say only Dane intimidates me because he’s a giant. But now that I’m going to live with Pete, I don’t want him to be uncomfortable, and crushes fade eventually. Josh is in his late twenties and must be thinking about settling down by now. This too shall pass. “Look, I know it’s hard, but I’m keeping the house. When you finish college in a couple of years, you can move back.”

It would’ve been too fresh a wound to go through mementos from our childhood and say goodbye to a home full of memories if he had decided to sell it. I owe him for being considerate. And once I finish my degree in two years, I’ll move back, start the next chapter of my life, and by then, Josh would probably have put me out of my misery and become serious with someone.

Josh’s chocolate-brown eyes flash through my mind. They’re warm, just like the way he changes the atmosphere of any room he walks into.

“When you let me out of prison in Nashville?” I say.

Pete presses his lips together and clenches his jaw. He softens after a beat, like he used to when we were growing up and I got on his nerves. “My house is far from that. Don’t weaponize protecting you against me.” Pete stretches his arm out to glance at his smartwatch. “We’ve gotta hit the road. I want to get to Nashville tonight and sleep in my own damn bed.”

My shoulders slump. If my feelings weren’t shot from the turbulent past few weeks, I’d fight. I’d make him drag me out of here. But I’m depleted from nights crying myself to sleep, Pete ordering dinner instead of Dad grilling in the backyard this time of year, and not having Mom to confide in. It never occurred to me that simple summery things like smelling Dad’s grill made the warm months something to look forward to. Now, it’s just Pete and me to make our own traditions.

“I want to come back here soon,” is all I can manage.

“Will do. It’s offseason.”

Leaving a piece of my heart buried in Wisconsin, I reluctantly buckle into the passenger seat, pressing my cheek against the dark-tinted window. I rest my chin on my hand and sniffle, staring into the side-view mirror while Pete pulls out of the driveway.

Turning onto the interstate a few minutes later, Pete clears his throat. “I want to get you a car once we’re in Nashville. Something safe. Maybe a small SUV,” he rambles, and I nod.

“Thanks,” I whisper and continue staring out of the window as the scenery blurs from our favorite restaurants and spots into unfamiliar surroundings. Eventually, that gives way to darkness as the sun sets west of us while we head south for Tennessee. The only silver lining I can find is spending quality time with my brother for the first time in six years, and if recent events have taught me anything, it’s that life is too short to be distanced from family.

For now, bye Milwaukee.

“Yo, Pete! Are you up? You said nine,” Josh’s voice booms from the foyer before I see him, and the front door closes behind him. Pete’s house has tall ceilings and is decorated minimally in that modern way, so a noise as simple as a door closing echoes.

Pete and I arrived after midnight, and I barely changed into my pajamas before I passed out in my new bedroom. Less than eight hours later, I still haven’t changed, and my hair is tied up in a messy bun. I couldn’t be any less cute if I tried, so naturally, Josh would stop by on my first morning in Nashville.

As I walk down the stairs, the six-foot-five man I’ve never forgotten is at the bottom. Josh. Number eighty-one—the only number I truly watched whenever I caught a Stallions game.

A stair creaks under my foot, and his head whips around. His dark brown hair is shaggy again, just like it was the first time I met him two summers ago. I want to tangle my fingers through his waves and run my fingertips over his trimmed beard, but I awkwardly wave as my heart thrums in my chest. At least I don’t have braces anymore.

Those brown eyes meet mine, and he gives me a big, toothy grin. Suddenly, I’m transported back to that humid Family Day right before Pete started his rookie season. I still remember what Josh wore that day—his black jersey with his number on the back in white. He had basketball shorts on that hit him just above the knee, and his hair stuck out from under his baseball cap. He introduced himself and politely shook my hand, but never gave me a second look.

And why would he?

I was barely legal and about to get my braces off and start college; he was twenty-six with a budding bromance with Pete. They were strong in their summer practices, bringing promise and playoff potential to a struggling team, and Josh wasn’t going to get distracted. But I still watched him that Family Day as he floated from family to family, never stopping for his own. He has this magical way of becoming instant best friends with everyone he meets, but something beneath the surface didn’t match.

And now, present-day Josh is at the foot of the staircase, and I pause on the bottom step. As we make eye contact, I see the same sadness beneath his approachable exterior. Maybe someday we’ll have enough of a friendship that he can open up to me.

“Hey, kid! How was the trip down?” he asks, still smiling with his cheeks rounded, never knowing that calling me kid makes my heart drop to my stomach. He probably doesn’t remember that Family Day, but I could never forget it or the feelings he stirred.

I drop my gaze but notice his shirt with the sleeves ripped off to show his toned arms, and the basketball shorts and sneakers he wears with it. No man should look so good in such casual clothes, but Josh could pull off anything. It’s not because of his body, but because of the way he carries himself—always confident and never arrogant.

“Um, good. It was a quick drive.”

He raises his eyebrows, making his irises more prominent. “Because your brother speeds. He’s almost killed me,” he jokes, but his face falls when he catches his faux pas. His words briefly sting like a bee, though I quickly remember he would never intentionally say anything hurtful, and honestly, I’m out of tears to spare. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Abby. I didn’t think—”

“It’s okay,” I mumble.

“Dude, cruise control,” Pete says, walking over and holding a protein shake bottle. “Josh came over to help unload your stuff and bring it upstairs.”