As we head into the diner, I find myself hoping a sinkhole will open up beneath it and just put me out of my misery.

Jake leads us inside, and Shane even holds the door open for me. But the warm, friendly guy I arranged a 'just a formality' coffee date with earlier definitely isn't looking at me like he wants a piece anymore. He's looking at me like he can't wait to get as far away from me as possible.

As we sit down at a table—and thank God it's not a booth—I realize he probably only came here because Jake asked him to. Obviously, right? Jake didn't want to meet me alone, so he asked for some backup from his friend.

Somehow I've managed to make this dinner even weirder than it was probably going to be.

"It's my treat, so get whatever you like," Jake says, gesturing to the one-page menus that are already on the table.

I grab mine, grateful for the thin sheet of laminated cardstock that now stands between me and Shane. Fuck. How could I screw this up so badly?

"You don't have to do that," Shane says, his voice a little more gruff than I remember.

"Don't start," Jake warns. "You find a way to pay every single time we come here."

That's enough to tear me away from my pity party, and I look between Jake and Shane. My brother would have told me if they were more than friends, right? Maybe not, considering how little we've talked over the years. But I've only ever heard of Jake being with women, and Shane doesn't seem like the type of guy who'd screw around.

Then again, I thought he was the type of guy who was going to whip out a camera as soon as he whipped out his dick, so I'm not sure my judgment's all that sound.

"So what's good here?" I ask, trying to recover some of my dignity.

"Oh, man. Everything."

Jake's enthusiasm actually makes me smile. Was he like this when we were kids? I honestly can't remember. I've got some vague, distant memory of him being stoked when I gave him a gold foil Pokemon card, but that could just be my imagination.

"Eric cooks an amazing burger. He mixes onions in with the ground beef so it stays nice and moist. Patty melt's really good. Chicken and waffles. Ummm. What else? Help me out here."

Shane snorts, then says, "Cobb salad's pretty good, if you're into that sort of thing.”

I look at him in surprise. Is he actually teasing me? Making a callback to what happened earlier in the grocery store? If he is, it doesn't really show on his face, and I tamp down my hope that we'd somehow managed to salvage this night.

We all put in our orders—I actually do go with the burger, partly because Shane suggested the salad, and partly because Jake chose it, too. Shane just gets some fries, claiming he's not all that hungry, and I guess I can't blame him after the way I acted.

After the waitress brings us out drinks, Jake decides to elevate this dinner from awkward to strained.

"So you said you've met before? Some weird coincidence, or…?"

"We bumped into each other at Weisman’s," Shane says, considering me for a moment. "Not sure why I didn't recognize you then. I guess the kale threw me off. I don't think I've ever seen Jake eat anything green."

"Wow. This blatant character assassination, right in front of my brother," Jake says, not seeming at all worried about it. His brow suddenly creases, though, and he looks at me. "Wait, kale? You didn't have to buy groceries. I was going to take care of it tomorrow."

The cloud of awkwardness spreads even thicker. I probably should've just eaten a sandwich or a Pop-Tart or something. I could’ve avoided all of this, and then Jake and I could… I don’t know. Bond over grocery shopping tomorrow.

“It was the least I could do,” I say, offering him a weak ass smile.

Shane glances between the two of us. I had hoped this whole ‘haven’t actually had a relationship as brothers’ thing wouldn’t be detectable to anyone but us. Apparently, I was wrong.

“So Jake says you play football for a living?” he asks, and some part of me wants to thank him for changing the subject.

“Yeah, I do. For the Storm. Or… I did. I’m a free agent now, so I can sign with anyone who offers for me.”

If anyone offers for me.

That doubt hits me like a punch to the gut. Sitting in that conference room, all I could think about was Jeremy’s betrayal. The idea that this might actually ruin my career is something I haven’t let myself consider, and I know I can’t start now. It’ll bury me.

“When are you supposed to hear back?” Jake asks.

“My agent’s working on a few things. We still have a month or so to field offers.”

“But you’ll get them, right? Even with what happened?”

My gaze flicks from Jake to Shane. He doesn’t look surprised or curious about this, so I’m guessing he already heard. Some bitter part of me wonders just how Jake phrased it. ‘Yeah, I’m taking in my fuck-up brother for a while, so be nice to him.’

“Shit,” Jake says, looking sheepish. “You’re not trying to keep that under wraps, right? I just assumed everyone knew. I didn’t mean to—”

“Everybody knows, yeah,” I say.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a man approaching with a big serving tray. He unfolds the legs of it and sets it down, revealing three plates of food that look and smells amazing. It reminds me of late nights on the road with my dad, back before everything got all strict and serious.

“Saved by the chef,” the man announces, setting plates in front of us.

Ouch. Apparently the weirdness is noticeable to everyone.

“Trav, this is Eric. Great cook, really bad at softball.” After a pause—and my confused expression—he adds, “Annual game. Raises money for the local schools.”

“Wow. Embarrassing me in front of your super athlete brother. It’s like you just think I’m a free fry dispenser and not a living, breathing human being with feelings and something that passes for a soul.”

I actually laugh at that, feeling some of the tension ease. “It’s okay, I’m pretty bad at softball, too. I won’t hold it against you.”

Eric lets out a breath, his hand resting on his chest. “That’s a relief. Good to know I’ve still got options if the whole diner thing doesn’t pan out, you know?”

“That why you’re waiting tables today?” Shane asks. “Considering a lateral career move?”

My eyes widen a little, but Eric just smirks. “The holler troll speaks!”

My eyes go wide and even Jake coughs and sputters around his drink. “Eric, dude. I get him out here rarely enough as it is—”

Okay, hence the troll remark, I guess.

“He’s just mad I won’t let him under my bridge,” Shane jokes back.

Eric lets out a loud and boisterous laugh, then folds his table to leave. “Let me know if y’all need anything else.”

“You got it, sugar,” Shane says, and I swear I see Eric very quickly flip him off.

This is… one of the weirdest interactions I’ve ever seen, but nobody seems even remotely bothered by it. Definitely a small town, and I tell myself to put a lid on my big city expectations and just eat.

The first bite I take of my burger tells me everything I need to know about Eric’s job security, though. It’s a perfect medium rare, the beef juicy and full of flavor. The cheese is almost over-the-top melty, the veggies nice and crisp, and somehow the bun holds everything together without getting soggy or weighed down. It’s one of the best burgers I’ve ever tasted, and now I think I understand why Jake’s kitchen is so empty.

“This is amazing,” I say. “You guys come here a lot?”

“I do,” Jake admits. “Shane’s always working. I have to twist his arm to get him to come out a couple times a month.”

“Oh yeah? Where do you work?” I ask Shane.

Finally the shift in conversation feels natural. Apparently good food does a lot to ease awkward social situations.

“I own a ranch just outside of town,” he says. “I rehabilitate and train horses.”

That’s not what I expected, and yet it fits. He looks like the sort of guy who’d spend his days on a ranch. It puts me at ease for some reason. Anyone who makes his living caring for animals has to be an inherently good person, right? Even if you’re kind of an ass to them.

“He used to be one of the best jockeys in Kentucky,” Jake adds.

I cut a glance to Shane, my brows lifting in even more surprise, but he’s giving my brother what I can only describe as a death glare. Touchy subject, then. I guess that’s another thing for me to avoid walking right into.

Conversation bounces between Jake and Shane’s respective jobs for a bit, and things are actually peaceful, but eventually focus shifts back to me, Shane readying a question it seems like he’s been sitting on for a while.

“So what made you want to dedicate your life to football? Seems kinda dicey to me, what with all the crazy stalkers you must get.”

“That’s… a super specific job concern,” Jake says, giving Shane a quizzical look.

But the meaning and context behind it passes easily between the two of us. We haven’t moved past it, and that’s pretty fair. Honestly, if this weren’t happening to me right now, I’d be laughing. Shane’s comment was funny, pointed, and all too real.

“More of a problem than you’d think,” I say. “But I love football. Always have. It’s how my dad and I bonded.”

The only thing we bonded over.

Jake goes still across from me, and I realize I shouldn’t have brought up Dad at all. It’s too sore a topic, and not really something I wanted to get into.

I’m saved from that awkwardness when his phone rings, though. He gives both of us an apologetic look before rising from his chair. “Sorry, I have to take this. It’s one of my kids.”

He takes calls from his students? I wonder if all teachers do that nowadays, or if Jake just gives them extra attention. Either way, I’m grateful for the brief break.

Until I realize there’s more awkwardness on the horizon, since I’m now alone with Shane. I keep going to town on my burger so I don’t have to talk, and watch him just sort of push fries around on his plate until the silence finally gets to me.

“Look, I’m… really sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, hardly even looking at me. “It all worked out for the best, anyway.”

I guess he’s right. It would’ve been even more awkward if I’d taken him back to my place—Jake’s place. But it still gets under my skin. I don’t want this guy to hate me. If I’m going to foster any kind of relationship with my brother, this isn’t a good first step.

“I’d really like to clear—”

I’m not able to finish my plea before Jake comes back. Shane engages him immediately, asking if everything’s okay. They talk for a bit, and a part of me actually feels jealous of them both. I can’t talk to my brother. I can’t talk to Shane. I’m just the odd man out here, looking like a fool.

But to my surprise, Shane actually excuses himself. “Thanks for the dinner, but I’ve got an early day tomorrow.” He looks to me and offers a tight smile. “Nice to meet you, Travis.”

I just sit there, watching him leave. My gaze turns warily back to Jake and his brows are already raised in question.

“So that was weird,” he notes.

Dammit. It’s not like I expected him to be oblivious, but I’m not sure I want to have this conversation. We need to start off with trust though, right? It can only help our relationship, even if it makes me look like an idiot.

“Yeah, I uh… like he said, we met at the store earlier. What he was nice enough not to mention was that we also flirted at the store. Over a bottle of vinaigrette. Then my rental got a flat later, and—”

“Your rental got a flat? Did you call the company?”

So missing the point, but I appreciate his concern.

“Yeah, they’re comping the repair and rolling back some extra fees. Anyway, I was pulled off on the side of the road and Shane happened by. He helped me change out the tire and… I asked him out for coffee.”

Jake’s raised brow arches even higher. Whatever he’s thinking, he doesn’t say it.

“He gave me his number, we parted ways, but as soon as I pulled back onto the highway, I noticed he was following me. I had no idea he was the guy you invited here, so when he followed me all the way here…”

Jake just busts out laughing. So hard and so loud that the other patrons are looking at us, and I just want to sink down into my chair.

“Is that what that ‘crazy stalker’ thing was about?” He’s breathless when he says it, and there are tears at the corner of his eyes.

He’s getting so much enjoyment out of it that I can’t help but crack a smile. And then I start laughing, too, and I just can’t stop. Because it’s fucking hilarious. Who else would have this kind of luck? Who else would make this kind of mistake?

“I’m sorry,” Jake says earnestly, wiping the tears away. “I should’ve told you who was joining us. I didn’t think you’d go and hit on the first guy you met though.”

I bristle for a second, my insecurities kicking up. But there’s a smile on Jake’s lips, and I can tell he’s just messing with me. I almost expect some kind of warning to follow—some well-meaning admonition that I need to keep it in my pants, but it never comes.

“Try not to take his behavior tonight too personally. He can be a bit of a grump sometimes,” Jake says, almost apologetically.

“I don’t know. I crossed a line with that whole stalker thing. I really wanted to clear the air with him, but he was out of here so fast.”

“Yeah, that’s Shane,” he says with a sigh, dipping two of his fries into the homemade sriracha ketchup and taking a bite. He considers me for a second, though, his expression thoughtful. “Do you really want to make amends?”

“I’d rather not have your best friend hate me, yeah.”

“I think I know of a way. As long as you’re not afraid of a little hard work.”

Honestly, a little hard work sounds like a blessing right now. Hard work I understand. Blood, sweat, and tears in pursuit of a goal is something I’ve lived my life knowing how to navigate. Disastrous relationships definitely aren’t.

And even though Jake and I don’t know each other that well, I trust him—I know he wouldn’t lead me down this path if he thought it was going to make things worse.

With all that in mind, my answer is an easy one.

“Bring it on.”