‘I’ll tell you this.’ Papa beams warmly at me. ‘I agree with your mother on that. Lila may be unrealistic sometimes, but she’s right on this one. You’ve learned from last year. You’ve dealt with something difficult – we all did – and now you’ve got the defences to cope if it happens again. Right?’

‘Right,’ I echo.

‘You know the drill, mija. Southern hospitality ain’t always worth it. Open your door for two seconds, and next thing you know, a storm’s tearing through your house,’ my dad muses. ‘But when that house gets shredded up, you rebuild it stronger. So yeah, I do think that this is your big second chance.’

‘Jordan wanted it all last year.’ I adjust my hat on my head, shielding my eyes from the striking rays of the sunset. ‘Is it crazy to think that if I do enough of that no flings, no booze, no parties, we can have that? The championship?’

Papa and I trot together in thought for a moment as we approach the stables, slowing our horses down and hopping off.

‘Championship’s a high bar to clear,’ he says.

‘Exactly.’

‘But there isn’t anyone in this town I could see leading this team to one of those other than May Velasco.’ As I remove my helmet, Papa ruffles my hair. ‘I think if you put your mind to it, mija, you can have whatever your dreams desire.’

Chapter Three

Homecoming

Colt

I think JJ’s going to cry. I’m not sure if I’m just imagining the glassiness in his big blue eyes, but it definitely looks like he’s fighting back tears. He clamps a hand down on my shoulder and gives it a shake. ‘You could stay, y’know.’

Rod sighs, reaching over to deal JJ’s hair an affectionate ruffle. ‘I get it, Colt. But we’re still sad to see you go. You’re gonna miss that crazy street lacrosse game they make us do in March.’

‘You can’t leave!’ JJ tries again. ‘If you’re not back before pre-season, Stephen will have to come back.’

‘Stephen won’t come back,’ I assure him with a laugh. Stephen, the man in question, got kicked off the team last season, getting caught doing whippets in the janitor’s closet. He definitely won’t be coming back.

My teammates’ words bundle themselves into a big rock that settles in the pit of my stomach. The guilt of leaving my guys behind – even if it’s just for the off-season – is second to nothing I’ve felt in my life. Especially when you realize you’ve made an unserious frat boy reach the verge of tears.

Connor presses a big woodchuck plushie into my arms. ‘Take him.’ With a sombre look, he nods. ‘Remember who you are, Coltie.’