She would have moved with me? To Boston? My parents would probably have rather trodden on hot coals for the rest of their lives than stay in New England. May Velasco would have moved?

‘But you didn’t,’ she continues. ‘You didn’t ask me. You didn’t say goodbye to me, either. Why didn’t you say goodbye, Colt? Huh?’

I remember it as clearly as day. The hallway, the glimpse of May out of the corner of my vision. Of the tears in her eyes, of the pleading. Just like that, fear had taken me over. ‘If I had said goodbye to you,’ I tell her, ‘come hell or high water, I probably would have picked everything up and put it right back in my parents’ house and refused to move to Boston. Just so I could stay with you.’

‘Oh, Colt.’ May’s voice is barely a whisper. ‘Why on God’s green earth did you never, ever tell me any of that?’

‘Is it a good enough answer to say ’cause Dylan Wright was your chambelan?’

‘Oh my …’ May reaches out and smacks my arm. ‘Shut up. Will you go on and tell me?’

‘Because …’ No time like the present, Colt. Come on.

This is only the bit I’ve waited years to tell her. The tiny little crumb of information that has pretty much defined my life ever since May set foot in my world in that ridiculous pink equestrian jacket. I’ve guarded it with my life, for what feels like for ever.

‘Do you – do you remember when I was stuck on that goal for days? Sophomore year? Close to sectionals?’

May’s eyes narrow in thought, but she nods tentatively. ‘Yeah … How could I forget? You were insufferable. You kept goin’ back there every night. I was about sick of it.’

That last part almost makes me chuckle. I’d spend the evenings after school on the Prosperity soccer field, stuck in a rut, just me and the goal I’d set up on the grass. I couldn’t get that shot, no matter how hard I tried: it was the no-look twizzler.

‘And you remember when you finally got totally sick of it?’ I continue. I’m practically sitting on my hands to combat the nerves.

Thankfully, her face lights up in recognition. ‘I went with you sometime round ten days after you started that desperate quest of yours.’

‘And you got pissed ’cause I’d just stand there,’ I recall with a laugh.

She rolls her eyes, but a wistful smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. ‘Thought you’d be able to make that goal score itself.’

‘Except you said something.’ I swallow hard. ‘About how I wouldn’t know if I’d be able to make it or not if I didn’t try. You said, “Just take the fucking shot, Colt.”’