Page 30 of Sunshine

“What about the draft?”

Pain lances through his features. “That was Jay’s dream, not mine.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. There’s an uncomfortable twist in my chest at the mention of Jason—making it to the NFL was all he ever talked about. But I thought Wells wanted it too. I never imagined he might only be along for the ride.

To know he never wanted any of it for himself . . . I wonder if he would have gone through with the draft in the spring, or if he would have found a way to let Jason down easy.

“Are you going alone?” I ask, shifting focus back to his invitation.

He shakes his head. “Kasey is competing too. We’ll stay overnight and then drive back the next morning. We already have rooms booked, but I’m sure we can get a third one for you once we get there.”

If it were anyone else going with him, I think I’d probably decline. But Kasey already knows I was at the cabin the morning after the funeral, so what’s the harm in me tagging along for a quick rodeo trip? Getting out of this town for evena day would be a huge relief, and Wells must know that if he’s asking me.

I think back to my earlier apology, to the whole reason I came here. Here’s a chance to show him some support back.

“That sounds like exactly what I need,” I say honestly.

Wells’s mouth curves and I’m rewarded with a bright smile. Arealone. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it, I almost forgot what it’s like.

He’s the only one in the world who, for the most part, can understand what this last week has been like for me—because he’s going through it too. Maybe if we lean into the pain together, we can make it to the other side a little lighter than if we were to go it alone.

I drape my arms over the fence and watch Stardust as she grazes, and for the first time since my world came crashing down around me, I feel a sense of hope.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THEN

In three and a half months of dating Jason, I’ve never seen him have a bad day.

Now, I realize the likelihood of a near-hundred-day streak ofgooddays is probably a little far-fetched. Still, he’s never worn anything darker than that easy smile he gives so freely, aside from the occasional nerves leading up to a big game. I guess I just assumed it was part of the magic of his composition: gorgeous eyes and unwavering charm, a dynamite athleticism that will probably take him pro someday, and an attitude so positive it’s hard to feel anything butgoodstanding next to him.

His general optimism toward life was part of the reason I fell for him so quickly in the first place. It began to chip away at my internal belief that if I don’t show up to life with anything but my best, the good things around me will fall apart. I wouldn’t call myself a pessimist, per se, but Ihavelearned to expect the worst.

If I strive for perfection,maybeI can avoid the possibility of failure. I believe it’s why I made the varsity cheer squad as a freshman and why my grade-point average starts with a four—I work reallyreallyhard for it all. But when I started spending more time with Jason, I could feel the relief of his easier frame of mind, and I couldn’t help myself from leaning into it.

Today, though, his typical zest for life is nowhere to be found.

Because today, Jason ispissed.

I know he’s blaming himself for last night’s loss against Mayfield; in the last minute of the game, he threw an interception that took the Matadors all the way to their endzone, earning them a narrow win by just three points. It broke the Mustangs’ perfect record andmightaffect the opinions of the scouts who’ve been spotted at recent games. Coach Andersen turned an angry shade of red, spit flying from his mouth as he yelled at Jason on the sidelines while the stands stood quiet, their disappointment clear.

I can’t imagine holding the weight of expectation from every person in this town, an expectation towin. The devastation on Jason’s face was completely new territory for me, seeing those handsome features that normally spark butterflies in my stomach rearrange themselves into something different altogether. It’s the look he still wears today, except now it’s also teeming with fury.

I hear the screen door slam from the front porch of the ranch house and turn to find the matriarch of the Bennett family. Her hand is propped over her brow as she looks down to find Wells and me carefully watching Jason shoot cannons through the tire swing. We’re all silent, and I wonder if she canfeel the tension roiling between us. “You kids want some lemonade?” she calls out.

Wells flicks his gaze to her before focusing back on his best friend, a small frown playing on his lips. “Sounds good, Mom,” he calls back, though he seems unsure. I don’t blame him, but it strikes me that even Wells is perplexed by Jason’s mood.

Mrs. Bennett turns back to the house, her blue button-down flowing back from her shoulders before she disappears inside. It’s a breezy late November day, breezier out here on the ranch than it was in town this morning. Wells is trying to make good on his agreement to teach me to ride a horse, having made plans with Jason and me earlier this week to spend our Saturday here, but now that we are, I feel silly about the whole thing.

It’s not that I don’t want to learn to ride—I do. But with Jason’s foul mood and Wells’s growing concern about it, I can’t help but feel like this is all a major inconvenience. I watch the wind tear through Jason’s shirt as he winds his arm back to launch a football through the tire swing again, and my regret presses down harder. “We don’t have to do this,” I say quietly, hoping I might still be able to save everyone from the burden I’m being.

Jason doesn’t even glance my way. But Wells does. “What do you mean?”

I throw a pointed look to Jason as if to say,You know exactly what I mean. But I answer honestly, “The riding lesson.”

Wells sighs, eyeing Jason who retrieves the ball he just threw for probably the hundredth time. “Jay,” he says simply.

Jason glares at him. “What?”

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