I shouldn’t have come back for practice today.

Opening my locker, I ignore him, set my helmet inside, and start unclipping my shoulder pads, bending to shimmy them off.

Hands grip the edge of my gear, and I jerk away, tugging them over my head completely.

I glare, moving to work on the belt of my practice pants.

“This how it’s gonna be, man?” Trent throws his locker open, dropping his helmet inside. “Not gonna talk to me, don’t want my help, purposely drop passes?”

When I don’t respond, he dares, “Maybe I’ll have to throw to Hammons more—”

When my head snaps his way, he closes his mouth, looking away as he unclips his own shit.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbles a moment later.

I grab my bag, leaving my pants open, shirt off, and cleats on. I slam my locker closed before getting in his face.

“You shouldn’t have fucked Demi either,” I hiss, shoving his ass into the metal as I pass him.

The second I step into the fresh air, my shoulders fall and I head for my truck.

I throw my shit in the back and drop against the seat.

I fuckin’ hate fighting with Trent. It’s rare we argue, and when we do, it’s over stupid shit we can laugh about later, but this is different.

I know it’s not fair for me to be pissed about something from years ago when I’ve spent the last few dating Josie or hooking up with other people, but I am anyway.

The thing is, if he’d have told me this then, I might not have her now.

Do I have her now?

I pushed her away, but she tried not to let me. She tried to keep me there, and I walked off regardless.

Just like I did with Trent years ago.

After my dad left my mom, I dropped all my friends and stopped conversing with adults I knew.

My mom was miserable, and I was partially to blame for it, so I told myself I was supposed to be unhappy and alone, too, but Trent refused to go.

He fought me, literally a time or two, when I’d try my hardest to get him to back off, but no matter how shitty I was, he never would.

He knew I was bleeding on the inside and he was too good of a friend to walk away, and he has been ever since.

His sleeping with Demi doesn’t change that, but it fuckin’ sucks and I can’t stand thinking about it.

I can’t help but believe it’ll always be right there when I look at him or her, or them together, the image of him with her.

A thought hits, and I call someone I’d never expect to.

She answers on the first ring.

“Nic?”

“Hey, Krista. You still at practice?”

“No, I just walked in my house, hang on.” There’s a light shuffle, and the sound of a door closing before she asks, “Are you okay?”

I scoff, and her soft laughter floats through the line.

“Yeah, I had a rough night, too,” she admits. “I feel better now though, always do after I talk to Trent. I take it you haven’t yet?”

“Nah, not yet.”

“Demi?” she asks.

I scoff a light laugh. “Does gettin’ my shit handed to me count?”

“When it’s coming from Demi, I say yes,” she jokes. “She doesn’t lose her cool all that often...only when something means enough for her to. Or someone.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” I lick my lips, my eyes closing. “Is it weird?” I rush out before I change my mind.

She knows exactly what I’m asking. “Not anymore, but it was. Sometimes it was pretty bad, if I’m honest, and I’d get super insecure. She had already given him what I wasn’t ready to, so I felt pressure, but as soon as Trent realized it, he went out of his way to change it.”

“Does it make you jealous, when they talk, or do you get mad or curious when they’re alone?”

She’s quiet a long moment before she says, “I don’t, but is that what worries you the most? The possibility that she could want him again?” She pauses. “Because if it is, Nic, I think you might want to take a second to consider how she must feel about the girls you’ve been with. That was her first time and two years ago. Who was the last person you were with and how long ago was that?”

Fuck man, she’s right.

She saw me with Sandra, knows I left Josie because I was cheated on, and I told her about Miranda, then she was forced to watch me dancing with her.

“Nic?”

I clear my throat. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t say any of that to take away from what’s happened. Trent should have told you a long time ago, and if not that, then Demi should have before you two started dating. It wasn’t fair how they went about it, and I’m sorry you found out how you did.”

I nod, sighing into the line.

“Now, tell me the truth, how much of an asshole were you?”

I laugh and she follows.

“Talk to them, Nic. If you’re hurting, they are, too. That sucks for everyone.”

“Thanks, Krista.”

I hang up, take a deep breath and drive home.

I head straight for the shower when I get inside, but my mom’s soft hums has me poking my head back out and walking to her room.

Concern pulls at my gut when I find her on the floor, surrounded by papers, a loopy smile on her face.

I drop beside her. “Ma?”

“Nikoli,” she rasps, her palm coming up to slide down my cheek. “You’re home.”

“What is all this, Ma?”

Her hand falls, and she looks to the mess. “He’s promised to take care of us.”

I pull back, slowly pushing to my feet. “What’d you do, Ma?”

“Your father. He came with papers from lawyers, had everything ready for me, wasn’t that nice of him?”

“No.”

Tears fill her eyes and she smiles weakly. “He’s letting us come live with him. Isn’t that great? We’ll be a family again.”

“Please, no.” I run my hands down my face and get back on my mom’s level. “Tell me you didn’t give him the house? Tell me you didn’t sign anything without me here?”

She tilts her head. “You know he only comes to see me when you’re gone.”

“Fuck!” I start pacing the room. “He screwed you, I know it.”

“No, no... he loves me, Nico. He’ll take care of us.”

I shake my head. “Like he’s been taking care of us, Ma? He steals from you, and keeps you so doped up you don’t even realize it.”

She looks to the wedding ring she refuses to take off. “He’s good to me, makes sure I have the medicine I need.”

“You aren’t sick!” I yell. “Not in the way he’s made you believe.” I drop beside her, grabbing her hands gently. “Ma, you lost your husband, and it broke you. You’re sad, depressed, and that’s okay. I get it, I swear. I tried to find someone to help you, remember? But you only wanted him, and he used that to control you.”

“You’re wrong. He cares. He pays our bills.”

“With your money,” I stress gently. “And now you probably just gave him control of everything.”

“It’ll all be okay, son,” she whispers, her eyes growing tired, whatever fucking cocktail he cooked up for her when he was here obviously kicking in. “He promised me.”