Jayden.
The fork froze halfway to my mouth.
I don't know why Ethan's words hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.
Amanda hates me?
Why did that feel worse than it should?
I hadn't done anything wrong. Not really.
Or… had I?
I mean, I haven't… yet.
I blinked at my own train of thought and immediately hated myself for it.
Yet?
What the hell was I even thinking?
I shook it off and shoved a bite of pasta into my mouth, chewing a little too aggressively before forcing myself to answer. "She does? Maybe it's because I'm not giving her any special treatment."
It came out casual enough, but my grip on the fork was white-knuckled.
"You know your sister—headstrong as hell. She thinks she knows the game inside out. I'm pushing her like I would any other player, and she doesn't like that. Simple as that."
I kept my eyes on the TV as I spoke, letting the replay of a Premier League goal distract me.
It was a good excuse. Logical. The kind of thing any coach would say.
But deep down, I knew Amanda Carter's hatred—or whatever she was feeling—wasn't just about me being tough at practice.
It was personal.
And I wasn't sure how to fix that.
Ethan snorted. "Yeah, that's Amanda for you. Thinks she knows everything. I'm just surprised it's you she's mad at. She used to—" He chuckled, reaching for his drink. "She used to worship the ground you walked on. Pretty sure she had a crush on you at one point."
My chest tightened.
Used to.
Right.
That's all it ever should've been—a silly teenage crush.
But my brain wouldn't let go of the image of her glaring at me earlier on the field.
Not like a kid glaring at an older brother figure.
Like a woman standing her ground.
I took another bite of pasta I couldn't even taste and focused hard on the TV.
"Yeah, well," I said after a beat, forcing my voice into neutral territory. "She'll get over it."
Ethan didn't seem to notice the pause—or if he did, he didn't care.
He stretched out on the couch, turning the volume down. "I'm just saying… try not to be too hard on her. She's under a lot of pressure with the team and those scouts coming to watch the qualifiers."
"I know," I muttered, more sharply than I meant.
Ethan raised a brow.
I sighed, softening my tone. "I do know. And that's exactly why I'm hard on her. Because she can handle it. She wants to play at the next level? She needs to be pushed."
Ethan hummed in agreement. "Fair. Just don't push her too hard, it may break her spirit."
That one hit too close to home.
Break her spirit.
I wanted to say that wasn't what I was doing. But hadn't I seen that flicker in her eyes earlier? The one that looked a little too much like betrayal when I pretended not to know her that first day?
I'd been so focused on drawing a line—on making it clear that she wasn't just my best friend's little sister anymore—that maybe I'd crossed into cruel territory.
The thought settled heavy in my chest.
My phone buzzing against the countertop yanked me out of my spiral.
The name flashing on the screen made me groan.
Kara.
Of course.
"Won't you answer that?" Ethan asked, glancing at the phone.
"It's my ex," I grunted, shoving the last bite of pasta into my mouth.
"Kara?"
"Yep."
Ethan made a face. "Didn't y'all break up months ago?"
"Two," I said flatly, picking up the phone.
The buzzing stopped.
I let out a breath of relief—only for it to start up again a second later.
Persistent as always.
Ethan smirked. "Looks like she didn't get the memo."
"She got the memo," I muttered, swiping to answer.
"Hello, Kara."
"Hey, baby," she cooed, her voice dripping with the kind of faux sweetness that used to hook me. "You didn't even call me back."
I blinked. "Baby?"
Ethan's head snapped toward me, brows raised in unholy amusement.
I got up and paced toward the kitchen, putting some distance between myself and his nosy grin. "Kara, we're not—"
"Don't be like that," she cut me off. "You know I've been thinking about you. About us."
"Us doesn't exist anymore."
She laughed softly, like I'd said something adorable. "Come on, Jay. Don't tell me you haven't missed me."
I closed my eyes, dragging a hand down my face.
This was the last thing I needed tonight.
"Look, Kara, I'm busy—"
"Busy? In Folkner? Please. What could you possibly be doing there that's more important than talking to me?"
My jaw clenched. "Coaching."
"Right. Coaching high schoolers. Totally worth ghosting me."
That jab slid under my skin sharper than I expected.
"You called me," I reminded her, voice low.
"Because I care."
"No," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You called because you're bored."
There was a beat of silence. Then her voice softened, sly and sugar-sweet. "Maybe I just miss you. And I know you miss me too."
I opened my mouth—then shut it again.
I didn't owe her a response.
Didn't owe her anything.
But the way she said it made me feel like I was standing on shaky ground.
Like I wasn't as over her as I wanted to be.
"Jayden?"
Ethan's voice cut through my thoughts.
I turned. He was leaning on the back of the couch, watching me with that infuriatingly knowing smirk.
Ethan hadn't stopped staring at me since I picked up the call.
The amusement in his eyes was infuriating.
"You gonna tell me why Kara is calling you?" he asked casually, like we were discussing the weather.
I ignored him, focusing on the sound of Kara's voice as she purred into my ear.
Ethan didn't let up.
"You guys are planning to hook up again?" he mouthed with a grin, deliberately enunciating every word like a jerk.
My grip on the phone tightened.
"No," I snapped—though I wasn't sure if I was answering him or Kara.
"Jay?" Kara's voice dripped like honey through the line. "You still there?"
I shut my eyes.
For a moment, I felt the walls closing in—Ethan's prying, Kara's coaxing, and somewhere in the middle, the memory of Amanda glaring at me like I was the enemy.
And I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why that thought made my chest ache the most.