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Worthless.

The day’s events had shaken his world, leaving him unmoored. He stood alone in the street, heart heavy with turmoil. Josh paced and fretted outside the school gates, struggling to process everything that had happened.

He wrapped his arms around himself, waiting for Tyler, the one certainty in his suddenly precarious world. Even so, Josh realized that depending so much on another person, even Tyler, was childish and risky.

Any day now, Tyler was due to depart. San Diego felt like the other side of the planet.

“Please,” he whispered. He walked out into the empty street, staring at the horizon toward home.

When Tyler arrived, he was speeding, and Josh saw the truck from ten blocks away. He just needed to close the distance.

Tyler didn’t even bother to park. He screeched to a halt at an angle and clambered out to get to Josh as fast as he could cover the ground. “I got you. I promise. Come here. It’s okay. You’re okay. I swear.”

Josh fell forward against him, and those powerful arms closed around his back to hold him up and keep him close, pressing their hearts together.

Chapter Thirteen

“TYLER?” JOSH called into the house from the doormat, glanced at his watch. No answer, but he could hear noises down the hall.

Josh got back in his truck, the engine still idling, and waited for Tyler to emerge so they could head back to his sister’s house. It had been a horrible couple of days, and it was about to get worse.

After Josh’s blowup at Myra, Carver had been obliged to officially reprimand him and add the incident to his file. Josh had taken three days of personal leave, and when he came back nobody in the building had the nerve to say jack to him. Mostly everyone tiptoed around him.

In his report, Carver had taken a lot of the blame, for allowing Myra a chance to attack Josh so publicly and worse. One of the bitchier board members had made noises about pursuing the matter and pressing some kind of imaginary charges until Tyler’s lawyers rattled sabers and scared them off.

Sometimes it’s good to be the king.

Josh didn’t want to sue anyone. Something had changed in him. Ultimately that outburst had shaken Josh out of a fifteen-year sleepwalk. Carver’s order to take a few days off gave him a chance to think about the bottled rage he had been carrying around. He wasn’t proud of saying those things to Myra, but he was sure as hell glad he had. He was relieved there had been witnesses. Truth isn’t comfy.

All those years, Myra Waxman had only felt empowered to grope him, smother him, and judge him because he’d allowed it. Playing nice and greasing the wheels were fine, but you had to fight the battles that mattered. If he’d maintained better boundaries or confronted her in real time, he might have defused whatever ugly power she pretended to have.

Never again.

The past few months with Tyler had woken something in him, made him see his choices and actions through clear eyes. Roots are great, but trees grow up and out. Carver’s mandatory three-day vacay had also given them extra time together when it mattered most.

Now the moment had finally come when Tyler would return to San Diego. They both knew he had to return to his NFL life, no matter how much they dreaded what came next. He’d been stalling for a couple weeks, but the time had come to face the music.

Josh’s fingers tapped an anxious rhythm on the steering wheel as he thought about the looming goodbye. Logically, he understood. It didn’t help much. Determined to send Tyler off without making it worse, he plastered a cheerful smile on his face, but it faltered at the sight of Tyler’s numb expression as he emerged from the house.

In just a few hours, he would board a private jet to Las Vegas. The San Diego Swells wanted to announce his full recovery at a press conference scheduled for this afternoon before they played the Raiders. The Swells were soldiering through the playoffs as best they could without their MVP.

“Hey, big guy,” Josh said, trying to sound cheerful. “All set?” He leaned over and pushed open the passenger door.

Tyler nodded silently and swung onto the seat with a scowl, buckling himself in with fumbling fingers. As they pulled away, his hand found Josh’s, clenching tight.

Josh squeezed back reassuringly, but he couldn’t ignore the chill in his chest. “You got this.”

“Three hours,” Tyler muttered, his voice grim. “I hate these dog and pony shows. At least they sent a plane.”

“Private jet? Fancy,” Josh quipped. “You know what they say—getting there is none of the fun.”

Tyler didn’t even crack a smile. He only stared out the window, his grip on Josh’s hand unrelenting. “They want me in Vegas by five. Big announcement with the coaches.” His voice was flat. “Captain Fantastic, back from the dead.”

They passed the high school, and Tyler turned to look at it with an odd expression. He shook his head at the familiar buildings, the track peeking out behind the gym. “Sorry. I’m being a pill.”

Josh swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to tell Tyler that he didn’t have to go or to offer to come with him. Instead, he focused on the road ahead, keeping his thoughts to himself.

They drove in silence through the quiet streets of Cinnamar. Josh wrestled with his anxiety. How would they survive the distance, the tabloids, the relentless pressure of Tyler’s career? He knew that Tyler needed to prove something, but at what cost? He snuck a glance at Tyler’s grim face. He looked like he was headed to his own execution.