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“Heart attack,” he heard the EMT say, a hand touching his head gently. “Tyler Fantana, dude. Would you believe? We need to get him to the hospital stat before he codes.”

Just like that, at the peak of his career, his whole life yanked from under him. Now here he was, trapped in his hometown, lying awake every night in his childhood bedroom, adrift and unsure how to climb back to the fancy life he’d wanted way back when.

Tyler snorted awake and realized he’d dozed off in the rocking car.

“Feel better?” Nadia glanced over at him, her expression sympathetic.

“Maybe.” A late fall rain had covered the low hills with California poppies, asters, and purple lupine that would die fast once December hit. He shrugged.

She turned to consider him. “It’s not a race, huh? You can do this. I know you can.”

“Exercise. Therapy,” Tyler muttered, staring out the window at the sloped landscape. He could feel the weight of his sister’s vigilance, knew she was searching for any signs of weakness or self-pity.

Nadia glanced at the rearview before responding. “She’s putting you on notice. This has as much to do with your mental state as your heart. And she wanted me as a witness. It’s going to be okay.”

“Therapy? I know I got to take responsibility for my health, Nadia. But it’s… hard. My whole life I’ve been this invincible meathead, and now—”

“Hey,” she cut him off gently, reaching over to place a comforting hand on his bulky forearm. “You’re not a meathead. And you don’t have to be invincible, Ty. You just have to be the best version of yourself that you can be right now—bum heart and all. You’ve faced worse than therapy.”

“Thanks,” he said, his voice barely audible over the hum of the car engine. He turned to look at her in a moment of raw vulnerability. “I just… I don’t want to disappoint anyone, you know?”

“Wow. Okay… Tyler Fantana, NFL superstar, America’s Tightest End, reduced to seeking validation from his little sister?” Nadia teased, though her voice was warm with old affection. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Hey, now,” Tyler huffed, trying to muster a playful glare but ultimately failing. “Don’t go getting a big head about it. Last thing I need is an even more insufferable sibling.”

“Too late,” she laughed, reaching over to ruffle his hair affectionately. “But seriously, Ty, you can’t ever disappoint me. Or anyone who truly cares about you. We just want you to be happy and healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, his throat tight with emotion. He tried to smile, but it felt false.

As they drove through their small hometown, familiar streets and businesses whizzing past them, Tyler felt the first glimmers of determination blooming within him. The road to recovery might suck, but with Nadia by his side, he knew he had a fighting chance. And maybe, just maybe, he could find a little happiness in the process. Though the doctor’s words still stung, Tyler felt a faint flicker of stubborn hope.

“Promise me something.” Nadia took the exit that led to their childhood home. “Promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to get better. No excuses, no half-assing it. No ditching me. Just… promise me you’ll try.”

“I promise,” he whispered, meaning it for once. It was time to take control of his life again, to face his demons head-on and reclaim the future that had been snatched away from him on the thirty-yard line. “Full-ass only.”

“Good,” she said, her lips curving into a small, proud smile. “Now let’s get you home and start planning your Super Bowl comeback.”

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

The car turned on the block and then bumped onto the drive as Nadia slowed to a stop and glanced his way again.

“Stop. I’m fine. Reynolds is still a tightass, though,” Tyler grumbled as he climbed out and slammed the car door with a huff. “Like I’m not trying hard enough. The panic attack rattled me, is all.” He headed toward the porch. Nadia had renovated the place twice since their mom passed.

“Uhh. Yeah.” Nadia caught up with him, keys jangling. “She’s just worried. We all are. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s time to get back on track. Baby steps.”

“Mom always said I was a big baby. Like, the biggest ever in this town, twenty-two inches or something and eleven-plus pounds. A mutant.” He grinned, but she didn’t.

“Ty, listen,” Nadia said, her voice gentle yet firm as she unlocked the door. “You need to take this seriously. Therapy and exercise will help you get better, on all fronts.”

“Fine,” he conceded. “But what if it’s not enough? What if that’s the last game I play? The last yardage. My legacy for all time. Eating mud on the thirty.”

“Glory ain’t everything, you know.” Nadia knocked their shoulders together, giving him a small smile. “Mom wanted us to love our lives. That’s all.”

Tyler sighed, running a hand through his messy hair as he thought about their mom, gone almost nine years now. It felt like forever since he’d last truly loved his life.

A high-pitched meow as Mr. Poops trotted up and headbutted Nadia’s leg. “See? Poops agrees.” She scooped up the fat feline and draped him across her shoulder. “Hello. Yes, I know…. Hey, mister.” Poops kept pushing his face against her ear and hair.

“All right,” Tyler said, determination in his voice. “I’ll do it. I’ll go to therapy, I’ll exercise, and I’ll work on getting better—for myself, for Mom, and for the people who matter.”