A decision as big as where you chose to go to college? I want to retort. A decision as big as leaving Oklahoma behind? I wonder if he remembers the faces of everyone who was disappointed that, as much as Prosperity wanted Colt, Colt didn’t want Prosperity. I wonder if he saw all the shit that happened here just a year ago. I wonder if he knows how much small towns need anchors. How much this place needed him and his talent, and how the ease with which he made the choice to turn his back on the people who made him who he is today – and, I guess, on me – was a knife to the chest.

I count my losses and let it go, though. ‘It is. But as Coach has apparently made clear to you, you’re also aware I’m personally in a tough situation. I have a dogshit year to make up for if I want to stay on this team. I don’t need distractions. This is the means to an end for me. Let’s keep stuff separate.’

Something changes behind Colt’s eyes, just a hint, and he nods in acknowledgement. Crap. Maybe I’m being too blunt. ‘And when I leave?’ he asks tentatively, before I can get too caught up in my own head.

‘That’s curtains, isn’t it?’ I reply, drumming my fingers idly on the table. ‘We stage the great big breakup. Call it quits because you’re leaving, yada yada. Works out well for both of us. No one leaves this thing tied down.’

‘Fair.’ He smiles, but it’s far less eager than his usual grin. ‘Makes it all the more important we have a nice outline to get this thing right, then.’

He takes a napkin from the centre of the table and extends a hand my way. ‘You got a pen?’

I shrug and pull one out of my belt bag for him. ‘Sure.’

Unfolding the napkin, Colt uncaps the pen and starts writing a big number ‘1’ with a dash beside it. ‘You tell me what to put on here, I’ll write it. Our playbook.’

The ache in my chest is dull and nostalgic, and it’s a feeling I thought I wouldn’t feel again. It’s a feeling I squashed after that spring when I watched Colt walk down that hallway with his cheery waving. After his half-assed text message and his mom’s infuriatingly good strawberries. It reminds me that there’s a hole in there, and that hole, only one person was ever able to fill, rivalry or not.

I swallow hard. I want to say, ‘Hiding. Our first play is going to be hiding. You continue hiding things from me, and I’ll hide them from you. Don’t let this get too real. I don’t think I could survive everything you put me through a second time.’