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Josh gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll be back before you know it.” Even as he said the words, he wondered if he was trying to convince Tyler or himself.

Tyler just stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” Josh murmured, his voice barely audible above the hum of the truck’s engine.

“Promise,” Tyler replied, low.

They continued the drive in silence, their hands still clasped, no words needed.

They pulled up to Nadia’s place, the engine rumbling as Josh put the truck in Park.

Tyler flashed him a tight, false smile. “I should get this over with.” He dropped Josh’s hand to open the door.

Josh followed him inside, where he hovered near the entrance to the living room.

“I was about to send Mr. Poops with a search party.” Nadia walked toward them, cradling the cat. “How we doing, boys?” When Tyler didn’t answer, she glanced at Josh.

He shook his head, and she nodded in understanding.

“Tyler, I did laundry last night, and your suitcase is on the bed.” She put a gentle hand on his arm. “Why don’t you go take a look.”

“Right.” Tyler nodded. “Thanks.” He disappeared toward his bedroom.

Josh followed Nadia into the living room, reminded of how much of Tyler’s life had played out in these walls. For one second, he thought of twelve-year-old Tyler grabbing the belt out of Mr. Fantana’s hands in this room. Fighting Goliath even though he was terrified.

A wave of intense love and respect washed over him. Tyler was a good man.

Nadia nuzzled the big tabby and put him down. “How’s he holding up?”

“Not great.” He peered down the hall toward Tyler’s boyhood room. “We knew it was coming, but suddenly everything feels like a freaky fast-forward.”

Mr. Poops squeaked up at them as if asking a question and then wandered down the hall in Tyler’s direction.

Josh just shook his head. “That crazy cat really does love him.” Then, for no rational reason, his eyes welled up and a hot tear snaked down his face. He wiped it, feeling dumb.

“Oh, hon.” She frowned.

“Sorry. Last thing he needs.”

Nadia pursed her lips. “You can still talk him out of this. It’s too much, too soon.”

“He needs to do this for himself,” Josh replied quietly. “I can’t make this decision for him.”

“But you’re the only one he’ll listen to,” Nadia insisted, her dark eyes pleading. “Talk to him, Josh. He’s got to know how stupid this is. Not to mention dangerous.”

Josh stayed silent, his jaw tight. Maybe Nadia didn’t understand or didn’t want to.

On some level, he could understand Tyler’s compulsion. Maybe it was about the boyhood dream of being a big deal. Maybe it was about his dad and the fears about violence. Or maybe this really was a macho fantasy thing—Tyler needed to prove he could still play or he might never recover from the shame and doubt of his injury. He knew all these bits were tangled with Tyler and the game itself.

“Maybe you can go with him. You could take some time, right?”

“There’s no way.” Josh thought about all the drama at the school right now. “I’m in enough hot water as it is. But even if I could, Tyler would take it wrong.”

She rolled her eyes. “Testosterone. Ugh.”

They both looked up as Tyler came back down the hall, an overstuffed duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “I just crammed a couple piles in. I don’t know what. They’ll dress me. Or I’ll buy new stuff in Vegas.” He bobbed his head in mock readiness, lugging the lumpy bag on one shoulder as he headed to the front door.

Nadia stepped into his path, blocking his exit. “Ty, please don’t do this. You’re not ready.”