“You’re back!” Joel stops short after he spots me lying on the couch in our living room.

“Was there some doubt about my return to school?” I ask dryly. I’m being an ass, but I want no part of all the questions and small talk now that I’m back. I’ve only managed to avoid it to this point because I’ve ignored texts and calls like it was my job.

“Classes don’t start back for another week,” he says by explanation.

I let out a sigh. “I couldn’t handle my parents hovering over me, checking the clock like I was keeping them from their usual holiday festivities. Happy?”

Joel laughs. “No, not really, but I’m glad as shit you’re back. Z has been quieter than normal. In fact, if it weren’t for the shit he says on the court I’d think he’d gone mute.”

As if on cue, the big man walks through the door. A smile spreads across his face and then falls. “You’re back.”

Before I can brace myself, I’m lifted and squeezed like a teddy bear in the desperate clutches of a child.

“Fuck, Z,” I wheeze out and chuckle. “I missed you too, big guy.” I pat his back a few times, and he eases me back down to the couch.

Joel plops down in the armchair with a big goofy grin on his face as if nothing has changed. Fuck, I missed being here. Even more than I hated the idea of coming back and being the only one not running off to practice. Coach told me I was always welcome in his gym and encouraged me to come be his eyes and ears, continue working with Shaw and all that. I told him hard pass.

“We going out to celebrate tonight then?”

“No,” Z and I say in unison.

“Aww, come on. You don’t have anything going on tomorrow.” Joel points to me before swinging his attention to my right. “And, Z, we have late practice tomorrow and our next game isn’t until late next week. Come on, you pansy asses. I’m texting Nathan, he’ll be in.”

Something about his plea or the idea that we could have a night out just like the old days touches something in both of us, I guess, because we’re both nodding and making plans before I realize what’s happening.

We head to The Hideout and grab a table where I can sit and prop up my leg. The pain is better every day, but too much time upright, and I’m gritting my teeth and sucking down painkillers.

The bar and grill is quiet, but then Joel has to open his mouth.

“Blair coming?” he asks as he puts a beer in front of me and takes a seat across the table.

“Think she’s still in Succulent Hill.”

“You think?” He pauses, beer resting on his lips.

“We haven’t talked much over break. Been kinda busy,” I grumble, pointing to my leg.

“Bullshit. Busy feeling sorry for yourself.”

Joel takes out his phone, and I drain half the glass in front of me, thankful for once Z is quiet.

Nathan and a few more of the guys from the team trickle in, and Joel waves them over as he puts the phone to his ear.

Tables are pushed together, and pitchers are placed in the middle so we can fit everyone.

“Blair, hey, it’s Joel.”

My ears perk up at her name, and all the blood rushes from my head to a pit in my stomach.

“What. The. Fuck?” I grit out.

“You back in town? We’re at The Hideout. Wes was just crying about how much he misses you, why don’t you come down so he’ll stop pouting.”

I grab for the phone, but he pushes back and stands, walking out of ear shot. I pull out my own phone and open my and Blair’s text history. The last thing I said to her was “Okay” in response to her asking me how I was feeling. That was two days ago. She finally got the message that I wasn’t up for idle chitchat about my wellbeing and here Joel is, meddling in my shit.

He walks back to the table, a shit-eating grin on his face. “She’s on her way. You’re welcome.”

My phone vibrates with a new text, but it’s from Mario, not Blair.

I don’t respond before I tuck my phone away. Maybe I can act surprised when they arrive. Z is beside me, and I hide behind him a little. Call me a coward all you want, fucking Vanessa is scary.

Seeing Blair again after my less than warm behavior over the past three weeks makes something ache in my chest. She stays firmly planted to Vanessa’s side as the trio walks up to the table and says hello. Empty space at the table and chairs scattered around the place go untouched as the girls make their excuses and head to sit at the bar. It’s like she came just to make a point she didn’t want to see me. Makes zero sense, but here she is, looking hot and angry and hotter because angry looks good on her. Fuck.

“Ouch,” Z says, eyes watching Blair. “What the hell did you do to have Blair giving you the shrug off? Must’ve been something bad, it isn’t like her. Girl doesn’t know how to be cold.”

“I was an ass all break,” I admit quietly. “I haven’t been returning her texts or calls.”

“Why the fuck not?” It’s a response I’m not prepared for. Z doesn’t insert himself into relationships, and he certainly doesn’t take sides when neither side is his.

“I was dealing with shit.”

His expression tells me he thinks I’m in the wrong, but he doesn’t say any more.

More and more guys from the baseball and basketball teams join us as the night goes on. Blair doesn’t so much as glance back at the table from her spot at the bar. Vanessa, on the other hand, glares at me every chance she gets.

Mario and Clark, a freshman baseball player, stand behind the girls at the bar. Blair laughs at something Clark says. Her shoulders shake with the movement and the strap of her dress slips off one side. My eyes dart to the bare skin at the same time Clark reaches out and pushes the strap back into place.

I see red and move faster than I thought possible. I’m pushing my way between them before rational thought has a chance to intervene.

“The fuck, man,” Clark says as he catches himself on the stool next to Blair.

“Hands off if you want to keep them.”

Clark steps forward, not the least bit tempted to give my punk ass a pass even if I have a gimp leg, but Mario steps between us. “Take a walk, Sinclair.”

Clark doesn’t budge. His nostrils flare, and his hands curl into fists.

“I said take a walk.” Mario’s voice is even and calm.

Clark shrugs off, his displeasure at being called down clear on his face.

“I think you should probably take a walk too.”

“Don’t get in my way, Mario,” I warn. “I just want to talk to Blair.”

He doesn’t move, but I see his resolve crumble. “Just trying to look out for her. I’ll move when she says it’s okay, but not before.”

He glances over at Vanessa, who looks at him like he’s her hero.

“It’s fine, you two,” Blair says, hopping down from her chair and placing a hand on Mario’s arm. “Can you give us a few minutes?”

Vanessa side-eyes me as Mario leads her away.

“You want to sit?” Blair reclaims her spot at the bar.

I don’t know what I expected after I crossed the bar, got in some guys face for touching her, and then treated another guy that I’ve been cool with for years like shit, but it isn’t civility from her.

“Sorry about that,” I say as I sit. I’m not sorry in the least, but there’s a laundry list of shit I’ve done in the past few weeks that needs apologizing for, so it feels like a good move to start groveling right off the bat.

“When did you get back?” A seemingly simple question made treacherous by her tone.

“Today. I was going—”

She holds up a hand. “Save it.”

“You look good.” At least that’s the truth. She’s wearing a silver dress that shows off her toned shoulders, and her hair is pulled up and away from her face in the way I like. I don’t know if the effort was for me, but it doesn’t go unappreciated. She looks all shiny and new, and I feel all tarnished.

“Thank you.” She lets out a breath as if she’s preparing for battle. “How is it being back?”

For some reason, I don’t give her my rehearsed line. Maybe it’s the way she asks like she cares or understands. Maybe I just want to be real with someone. Maybe it’s just her.

“Tough, but it’s better than watching my mom walk around with a Kleenex in her hand, wiping her eyes like I died or something.”

“Blair, we’re gonna head out.” V hovers off to the side.

She stands and pulls her purse strap to her shoulder. “Well, I should get going. I have work tomorrow.”

“The café is open over break?”

She shakes her head. “No, I quit my job at the café. I got a job with the campus career center. I’m going in tomorrow to get things set up.”

Joel appears at my side and pulls Blair into a hug. He’s drunk and completely oblivious to the moment he just barged in on.

“Blair, it’s so good to see you. You coming back to the house? We’re having some people over for a little after party.”

I grind my teeth. “We are?”

“No, sorry. I was just telling Wes I got a new job teaching workshops on goal setting and choosing a career path.”

“That’s a thing?” Joel asks with a confused expression on his face.

“It is. It’s an optional workshop taught once a month by an upper classman. I’ll also be occupying a table at the tutor center for one-on-one sessions and tips on setting and achieving goals.”

“Who would go to something like that?”

I elbow him in the ribs. “Sounds”—I search for the words, any words but the ones that are coming to mind—“interesting.”

“Yeah, well, let’s hope others think so.”

“Good to see you, Joel.”

She faces off with me. “Wes.”

She takes a step, and I grab her arm. The heat and spark between us surprises me, not because my feelings have changed but because I haven’t felt anything in weeks. How does this girl break through my walls without even trying?

“It was good to see you, Blair.”

“Take care of that foot. And maybe give your mom a pass this once. She’s crying because of your loss—not hers. It is a hopeless feeling to watch the people you love go through tough times with nothing to do but hope they’ll accept whatever support you offer.”

She breezes past me like she didn’t just cut me down at the knees.

And the fuck . . . she didn’t say it was good to see me too.