I’ve seen May happy before – after games, with a trophy in her arms, when she’s with her family or her horses – but this is different. I’ve never seen her weightless the way she is when she does a full three-sixty, taking in the makeshift field. She looks my way with the broadest smile on her face, her eyes creasing happily, and she gestures dramatically to the nets, the pitch of her voice rising excitedly. ‘GOALS! You got goals?’

‘Yep.’ I grin with a shrug. ‘Seeing as the last set got launched into space.’

‘Wow.’ May grabs the ball I’d left in one of the nets. ‘Well, bring the sticks! Come play!’

I grab her sticks from the bag, but those last words – come play – are like trying to swallow a big-ass painkiller. The joy I feel at watching her light up starts to fall away, because I can’t. I literally can’t play, and I don’t know what to do about it, because May Velasco is asking me to join her for a round on the field I’ve made for us. May, who has practically defined every stage of my life even more than the game has. If I say ‘no’, it will prove her right. It will prove that I never cared enough.

I kick myself when I watch the smile slowly fall from her face, too. She doesn’t deserve that. It’s not something she needs to worry about, now or ever.

‘Oh, Colt.’ Her shoulders slump, and it kills a little part of my heart. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …’

‘No, um …’ I shift my grip on the sticks. I know I’m going to be shit, but I don’t want to ruin this for her. ‘It’s okay. Only way out is through, right?’

A crease of worry forms between May’s eyebrows, but she nods. ‘Just … try and clear your head.’

A small, wistful smile tips up one side of my mouth. ‘You were better than me at that, you know. Every chance you got. First place you’d go was the field.’

She shakes her head with a tiny scoff. ‘I was flighty. The way I’d just disappear to play … my parents hated it.’

‘Disappear’ was about accurate. But May was one of the first people I knew who truly found their place in the game – found solace there. Maybe that was why when I fell for her, I really fell for lacrosse, too.

‘It was easier when we were younger, wasn’t it?’ I pass May her stick before heading to a big backyard bin off to the side to grab mine. ‘To just play, clear your head?

May laughs at my quip. ‘Everything was easier when we were younger. Lacrosse was easier. Responsibilities were easier. It was easier to …’

She stops herself, a shake of her head.

‘Easier to what?’