Letting My Brother's Best Friend Take My V-Card

FADE AWAY

JOSH

The roar of the crowd was deafening as I ran onto the field, the cold air biting at my skin. The stakes were higher than ever-this game would decide whether we went to the Super Bowl. My mind was laser-focused, but not on the right things.

The tension inside me had been building for weeks, maybe months. Every time I thought about Laura, lying in that bed, motionless, something inside me twisted, turned sharp. I channeled it all into the game, into every snap, every hit. And maybe I was taking it too far. "Josh, man," Luke jogged up to me during a huddle, lowering his voice. "You good? You've been off today."

"Just focus on the game, Luke," I snapped, not bothering to look at him.

Luke frowned but nodded, backing off.

When the play restarted, I was on fire, charging down the field with an intensity that bordered on reckless. The opposing defender squared up to block me, and I didn't just push past him-I drove into him, shoulders low, practically throwing him to the ground. The refs blew the whistle, flags flying everywhere.

"Unnecessary roughness, offense, number 86!"

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FADE AWAY

288 Vouchers

Luke was in my face before I could even step off the field. "What the hell was that?" he barked, grabbing my jersey to pull me back as tempers flared on both sides.

I shrugged him off, glaring. "Back off, Luke."

"Josh-"

"I said back off!"

the sidelines, seething. The game unfolded without me, but

with excitement, guys laughing, celebrating, the energy electric. I toweled off, keeping to myself. When Luke walked by, I called out

his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "Yeah, man. Jess is cooking dinner. Gotta get back to her and the kids. You should bring

good. Asha's with the nanny. She loves

come home? Living in

"You know I can't go

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"She's alive, Josh."

voice rising. "She's never fucking waking up!

pair of eyes on me. I didn't care. I grabbed my bag

in the face. I stood there for a moment, my chest heaving, trying to calm down. But Luke's words echoed in my

But it didn't

my phone buzzed in my pocket.

and when you're coming home. Also... she asked

breath, staring at the screen. It felt like a punch to the gut. Asha was three. Too little to understand why her mom wasn't coming home or why Daddy couldn't give

didn't know what to type. What could I say? That I couldn't face it? That I didn't know how to be enough for her when I felt like I was failing at everything

back in my pocket and leaned against the car,

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