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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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!"

me for the rest of the game. I sat there on the sidelines, seething. The game unfolded without

toweled off, keeping to myself. When Luke walked by, I called out to

slung over his shoulder. "Yeah, man. Jess is cooking dinner. Gotta get back to her

good. Asha's

you going to come home? Living in that apartment isn't good

him a glare, my jaw tightening. "You know I can't go back there, Luke. Everything reminds me

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"She's alive, Josh."

voice rising. "She's never fucking waking up! Don't you

me. I didn't care. I grabbed my bag and stormed out, the door

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

alive. But it

walked to my car, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw a text from

bed. She asked about you, and when you're coming home. Also... she asked when she can visit

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

thumb hovered over the keyboard, but I didn't know what to type. What could I say? That I couldn't face it? That

leaned against the car, running my hand through

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