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The silence stretched on, heavy with everything neither of us could bring ourselves to say. Jude rocked once on his heels before shoving his hands deep into the pocket of his jeans. Without announcing it, he started walking, and I fell in step beside him as we walked across the park.

“So,” Jude began, “are you going to tell me about Florida yet? Or do I have to get down on my knees and beg? Please, Theo, please tell me about your time with the fancy football people.”

I laughed. Dramatic little shit.

The change in subject was obvious, and I let him have it as I immediately launched into a full play-by-play recap of everything—Cyrus, the draft process, the facility, Walter, and every conversation I’d had about what the next year could look like if I kept playing the way I had been. Jude asked a few questions here and there, occasionally interrupted me with some ridiculous comment that made me laugh, and listened intently.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, we made it to the playground, and Jude dropped onto one swing. I took the one beside him, my feet dragging against the mulch. We rocked lazily back and forth, barely moving enough to qualify as swinging.

“So, you’re really doing this?” Jude asked. “The whole NFL thing.”

I glanced over at him, unable to help the smile that came with it.

“Yeah, I am,” I said. Saying it out loud still felt strange. Not maybe. Not if I’m stupid lucky. I planned to try my hardest to make it happen. It wasn’t some kind of what-if anymore. “I want it so fucking bad, and I think I can do it.”

“That’s awesome,” Jude replied with a smile. I knew him well enough to know he meant it—he was happy for me—but I couldn’t quite shake the feeling there was something more to it. I didn’t poke him for more. Jude was a lot like Rhodes in that way. If pushed too hard, they both found ways to retreat into themselves. The difference was that Jude usually used loud jokes and antics until everyone forgot something serious had been happening in the first place.

And so I kept rocking and staring out at the dark park, giving him the space he needed to figure it out. After a while, his swing slowed, and I readied for whatever came next.

“Do you think you and I will still be friends after you’re drafted?” he asked so quietly I was almost positive I’d heard him wrong. My foot hit the ground so hard the swing jerked beneath me, and I swung sideways to stare at him.

“Are you serious?” I demanded a little rougher than I meant to. Jude just shrugged, his eyes focused somewhere across the playground.

“I mean… your life’s about to get a lot bigger than Everdale,” he said. “I guess it’s just kind of hit me lately that I don’t know what I’m doing. Rhodes says all these things about making smart choices for my life, and that’s easy for him to say. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

I dug my heels in the ground as I processed that. The question made a lot more sense once I understood where it was coming from. It had nothing to do with whether I’d stop calling him if I made the NFL. It was about everyone moving on with their lives. I had the NFL. Wyatt had always been vocal about not being from Everdale and not staying here either. Rhodes was eventually moving back to Florida. And his mom…

Everything was changing, and Jude had no idea where that left him.

“If it helps, I don’t think most of us know what we’re doing,” I offered a little pathetically. I didn’t have good advice for this kind of situation.

“Right,” Jude scoffed. “You have the NFL, Wyatt is some mathematical genius that Rhodes is trying to recruit for a NASA internship, and I’m just over here… doing what? I started an account like I can pretend to be a fitness influencer.”

I bit back a smile as I realized the opening was a good one to break some of the tension. That was the other part of how Jude worked. Things couldn’t stay serious too long, or else he’d retreat. The conversation had to ebb and flow.

“How’d the first post go?” I replied. I knew about his account, and I knew about the almost two thousand new followers he’d gained from a single picture. To be fair, he’d posted a shirtless gym pic.

“Good. They liked my abs.”

“You do have nice abs,” I commented easily. “Objectively speaking, of course.”

That made him laugh, the sound cutting through the quiet night. With it, his tension melted, which was what he needed. He didn’t need some big speech on finding his purpose or me promising everything would magically make sense. Nothing I said would solve what he was going through.

But I could make him laugh, and I could make sure he knew he wasn’t getting rid of me that easily. And I could make sure he knew he had a space to voice his concerns.

“It’s okay not to know,” I told him. “And if it helps. I’ll drag you around with me everywhere I go. You can be my emotional support idiot. I’ll put a clause in my contract.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll even get you a little vest,” I continued. “You know, one of those ones that identifies you to everyone else. I’ll make sure to put a Do Not Pet patch on it for you.”

“Hey now!” Jude exclaimed. His immediate outrage made me laugh harder. “I’m petable!”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m extremely petable!”

“You sound like something they’d warn children not to approach at the zoo,” I shot back just to poke the bear further.