Page 85 of First Down Promise

The last time Josh was in my pool crosses my mind. Josh looked like a kid trying to get away with something when I came back after my manager called, and she was popping up from under the water. Abby never went in that far because she tried to avoid getting the treated water in her hair, and she had a conniption last summer when I splashed her just a little.

I drift through the open floor plan, coming up empty-handed until Abby’s belt bag on the counter stops me cold. I step toward it and unzip the main compartment. Her phone is the first thing I see, the lock screen glowing with a picture of the three of us after a game, Josh and me sweaty in our stained jerseys. In the picture, she’s between us in her cheer uniform, and I don’t miss the way her side is pressed harder into him. I thought she set it as her lock screen because the moment meant something to her, but it could have a deeper meaning.

As I return her phone to the bag, a sleeve of pills slips out, the first couple of rows already popped through the foil. When did Abby get on birth control? I brace the edge of the counter with one hand and run the other over my mouth.

Whenever she started sleeping with Josh.

But Abby isn’t the kind of girl for something casual. Something must have ignited between them, but who initiated it? I’d put money on Josh, but I’d like to think he tried to bury any feelings first out of damn respect for me.

It’s been under my nose the whole time. How could he do this to her? Aside from him being my best friend and ride-or-die, what he’s doing is literally forbidden. League fucking policy. And I thought he was a stand-up guy. Someone I could trust around my little sister.

My gaze shifts over my shoulder to the door that leads to Josh’s room. It’s slightly ajar, and they sure as hell aren’t talking. No creaks or footsteps have come from upstairs either, and it’s too cold for them to be in his backyard.

I exhale through my nose.

I don’t want to know, but fuck, I can’t leave without the truth. My feet weigh one thousand pounds as I step closer to the door, but I’m past the point of no return.

To this day, I’ve never been in Josh’s room, so I’m a little surprised to find the door leads to a private hallway. And even more so when I find the bathroom door half-open. The air in the hallway is heavier, humid with steam as water rushes behind the bathroom door. I nearly tiptoe toward the half-open door. If Josh is alone, this will be mortifying, but nothing I haven’t seen in the locker room.

But if he isn’t alone, it’ll be worse.

I don’t have to open the door any further. From the hallway, the bathroom mirror tells the whole story, reflecting his shower a little too well. Josh is sitting in the shower, presumably on a built-in bench, with Abby on top of him. Thankfully, his broad fucking shoulders and back block her seemingly naked body from my sight, and I turn away.

I plant myself on the couch in the living room, resting my elbows on my knees with my hands in my hair. With my head dipped, I glance toward his bedroom door.

He’s always been a player, and now Abby’s fallen for him. Nothing will ever be the same again, and he’s proved he has no morals. But how long has it been? I run the events of this season through my head, working backward.

Last week at Christmas, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

My breathing stills.

Dallas.

Did she really have a headache?

What happened before that? Thanksgiving, but before that, Josh drank too much and stayed over. Was she texting Josh before that? Even earlier, the morning when the guys and I were hungover, she was more chipper than usual. Did Josh cause that?

Jesus Christ, how far back does this shit go?

Footsteps finally approach from the hallway, and I have no idea how long I’ve been reviewing this season play-by-play, dissecting every moment between them I’ve seen.

I lift my head at Abby’s voice. “What’s for lunch?”

“Whatever you want, baby,” Josh’s deep voice answers.

Abby emerges from the doorway first, and our eyes meet. “Pete!” she gasps. She’s wearing a robe that the team gave the players for Christmas last year. It’s oversized on her and must be Josh’s, and he’s just in basketball shorts.

“I knew it. I fucking knew it. Just didn’t want to believe it.” I drag both hands down my face. “How long?”

“Week six,” Josh answers.

Two…and a half months.

I drop my hands and meet Josh’s eyes. How the fuck has he looked me in the eye this whole time?

“The week we were in Milwaukee?”

“Pete…” Abby starts.