“You called him?” I ask.

“Maybe I did, but he was the one who invited himself over. Now get your butt into the shower. I’ll make you a vanilla milk shake and a grilled cheese.”


Half an hour later, I feel halfway human as Matt and Tricia Williams step into the house with a bottle of wine for dad and a bunch of sunflowers for mom.

My parents hug Matt, and then I do, which feels more normal than weird. He’s my peer now, but it’s something I’m still getting used to.

Four and a half years ago, he came to this house to recruit me and stood exactly where he is now. His brown hair didn’t have any silver in it, and he wore a UCLA soccer sweatshirt instead of the Air Force Academy one he wears now, but other than that, he doesn’t seem to have changed at all. His vibe is still pure calm and positivity—the kind that quietly seeps into the people around him. Two minutes into his visit, and I already feel it.

Tricia is very pregnant, and I hear a steady flow of excited questions from my mom, who disappears with her into the living room. Dad, Matt, and I settle in the family room, where an MLS soccer game is playing on the television.

Soccer’s a small world. Matt coached or played with a couple of the guys who sprint across our flat screen, and I know a few of them, too, so for a little while, we talk about them and the game while Dad chills in his recliner, listening. Then Matt asks about LA, and I catch him up on Jason and the rest of the guys.

“I’ve got a youth team I’m coaching,” I tell him. “They play Saturdays too, so I can’t always make it to the pick-up games, but I see everyone almost every week.”

“You’re coaching a team?” my dad asks.

It’s the first thing he’s said since we sat down.

“Yeah. Boys. Under nines. It’s basically a squad of puppies, but they’re good kids. We’re seven and one right now. And I just added a kid who’s going to make us unbeatable as soon as I get him to buy in.”

Matt leans forward and sets his beer down on the coffee table. “What’s stopping him?” he asks, genuinely interested.

“He came in late, so getting him integrated with a team that’d already bonded pretty tight wasn’t easy. The main thing, though, is a confidence issue, but I think I’ve got a handle on that.”

Matt and my dad fire off tons of questions about Parker, so the whole damn story comes out, from Raylene to bowling night. For reasons unknown to me, my dad laughs his ass off when he hears I had to go on dates for work, but Matt only becomes more interested, asking me questions about the other kids on my team, and then about Parker and Raylene.

“So you got through to him?” he asks. “The team outing worked?”

“I haven’t had a chance to work with him since bowling night, but I think so. I want to get him out a few times a week to work on his finishing skills.”

“Can I make a suggestion?” Matt weaves his fingers together— a familiar cue, telling me he’s about to say something he believes with conviction.

“Of course.”

“Don’t work with him privately. If you’re going to work with him outside of practice, bring Tyler or one of the other boys out too. The last thing Parker needs, I’m guessing, is to feel like he’s being singled out.”

I sit back, absorbing the wisdom of his suggestion. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

Matt smiles. “You’ve done the hard part already, Ethan. That’s just a minor point.” I shrug, trying not to grin like an idiot over his praise. “So, how’re the law school plans coming?” he asks. “Last we spoke, you were getting ready to study for the LSAT?”

“Right . . . LSAT,” I mutter. “I haven’t had a chance to get to it yet, with work and coaching.”

We’re quiet for a few moments, watching the television, but I know both Matt and my dad are focused on me. Their attention makes the blood rush to my face. My sole preoccupation becomes not fidgeting. Just staying calm.

“Ethan, I was thinking about something on my way here.” There’s a serious note in Matt’s voice that makes my heart beat faster. “I had my squad work with a specialist this year. Mike McCarthy. He’s a psychologist who focuses on high-level athletes. The guy was incredible. Every single one of my players made massive strides in their training and game performance after working with him. Unfortunately for me, he’s leaving Colorado.”

There’s a pause, and I know I’m supposed to fill it. So I do.

“Yeah? Where’s he going?”

“Out your way, actually. USC. He’s starting a new graduate program there. Masters and doctoral degrees in sports psychology. I’ve told him about your interest in psychology and your playing history. Mike thinks you’d make an ideal candidate for the program. I’d be happy to put you in contact with him if it’s something you think you might be interested in.”

My lungs stop working for a few seconds. I stare at the television, trying to get my breathing to become unconscious again.

“I appreciate the offer, Matt. But—”

What can I say? My bank account is hovering at a hundred and thirty bucks right now? It wasn’t the plan?

Think of a reason, Ethan. Think of one decent goddamn reason to turn down his offer that doesn’t have to do with money or pride.

I hear the front door open and close. “Pizza!” Chris yells.

A stroke of luck. Matt picks up his beer and quietly leaves, but my dad stays back.

“Ethan.” He stops me with a hand on my shoulder, then he waits until he knows I’m really listening. “Do me a favor, son. Think about what Matt said?”

It’s the favor thing I can’t say no to. Of course I’m going to do whatever he asks when he says it that way.

“I will, Dad,” I promise. Then I make a break for the bathroom.

I need to get some cold water on my face before my head explodes.

As I turn the corner into the hallway, I run right into Chris.

“Sup, bro?” His smile is so big, it looks painful. “How’s your day going?” He holds up my cell phone. “Because it’s about to get so much better.”

“You little shit.” I lunge for him, but Chris dodges and slams into the wall, almost knocking down a framed picture of us skiing.

“Who’s Mia and what did you do to her?” He’s shouting and laughing, and I have never had a clearer goal in my life. I catch his shirt and get him in a headlock, snatching the phone away. Then I pull up my texts and read Mia’s message.

Holy Mother of God.

I read the two lines again, but Chris swipes the phone out of my hand. He tears into the dining room. I’m right behind him, but it’s too late.

“Dear Ethan,” he says, embellishing words that are perfect just the way they are. “I wish I remembered more of our magical night. I’m pretty sure you rocked my world. Love, Mia.”

Laughter explodes from my mom and dad. Matt puts his arm around Tricia and grins. I can tell he’s at least trying not to lose it.

“Thanks, Chris,” I say. “Real cool of you to share that with everyone. With my coach.”

“I’m not your coach anymore, Ethan. Anyway, by the sound of it, I’m the one who should be getting pointers from you.”

Tricia rests her hands over her huge stomach. “I think you do just fine.”

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” my dad proclaims, like he’s making a public service announcement. “You know what they say. Like father, like son.”

And here comes the cliché part of the night.

I catch my brother’s eye across the table. “You’re going to die, Chris. As soon as I have the energy, your life is over.” Then I drop into a chair and prepare myself to answer a million questions about Mia.

“Ethan, what are you doing?” my Mom says. “Don’t be rude. Go text her back!”

Matt nods. “Prudent advice.”

“Keep making me proud, son.” Dad barely gets the words out before he’s in stitches again.

Chris tosses my phone across the dinner table. I catch it, and I’m out the door, in my room, and texting Mia in less than two seconds.

Ethan: Hey, Curls. Just saw this.

Ethan: I spent most of my night remembering what we did. Remembering you. You rocked my world too.

I drop onto my bed, kick off my Nikes and stare laser beams at the phone. Thankfully, her response comes right away.

Mia: You remember?

Ethan: Most of it.

Ethan: Enough to know I want more of you.

No answer.

No answer, no answer, no answer.

Finally, it comes through.

Mia: What about work? What about Alison?

Ethan: Mia

Mia: Yes?

Ethan: I want YOU.

Another pause. Then,

Mia: You keep rendering me textless.

Mia: And I want you, too.

I stare at those words for a few seconds, my heart doing double gainers in my chest. It takes all my willpower not to call her, but it wouldn’t be a quick conversation, and I don’t want to say what I want to say on the phone, anyway. And, as understanding as my parents and Matt seem to be about the situation, it’d be rude to spend the rest of the night in my room on the phone with Mia instead of with them.

So I go to plan B.

Ethan: Need to see you. ASAP.

Mia: When are you back?

Ethan: Tomorrow at 6. Feel like picking me up at the airport?

Mia: YES.

Ethan: All caps yes?

Mia: !!!YES!!!

Ethan: OK. One more thing.