Chapter Three

THE MORNINGsun was just beginning to peek above the horizon when Tyler arrived at the Hamilton High School track. The dew lay thick on the grass, and the sky above was still a deep blue that seemed to hold secrets. He needed this time alone, away from prying eyes and the relentless attention that came with being a pro athlete—especially one recovering from a very public heart attack.

For most of Tyler’s life, mornings had sucked. Now he loved them, enthusiastically. Since he’d woken up in the hospital, every damn one felt like a big, shiny wrapped present because it meant he’d woken up to another chance, another choice. Still alive. Still fighting. Infinite possibility, all laid out for anyone willing to wake up and claim it.

Since his Reynolds checkup, he’d gotten into a little habit of pausing to pay attention anytime he caught himself stuck in his head or replaying the past. Even though her three-three-three routine was for panic attacks and crisis mode, it had evolved into a touchstone; he tried to notice things as they appeared and to move intentionally around them rather than rushing. Stupid as it sounded, simple focus blunted all kinds of sharp edges. He’d started doing it yesterday by accident, to help him navigate the school hallways, all those people, but it worked wonders.

Inhaling deeply, he could smell the damp earth beneath him as he stepped onto the track. For some stupid reason, he felt too anxious to even bother stretching or warming up; he simply started running, almost stumbling into motion. With each stride, the rhythmic pounding of his footsteps echoed across the empty field. A cool breeze made his pitiful pace feel less embarrassing.

“Damn.” As Tyler trudged around the track, he discovered just how much his body had changed since the attack. In two months, his strength and reflexes had crumbled. His breath wheezed in his ribs. The consequences of hiding out on Nadia’s couch for a month, binge-watching Hallmark movies. He could feel the stiffness in his joints, the weakness and tightness that had crept across his once-powerful frame. His sinew felt slack, and his mood soured with each leaden step around the track. He couldn’t shake the worry that full recuperation would take much longer than anyone was willing to predict.

He muttered under his breath, pushing himself harder. “I’m not giving up.”

Growing up broke teaches you plenty. Tyler had never expected anything from anyone. He’d fought for scraps long before the NFL rescued him and saddled him with impossible expectations and pressures. Being number eighty-six for the Swells hadn’t come easy.

As a kid in this crappy town, football had been an escape from hurt and hunger, a way to channel his anger and frustration over an alcoholic father who had smacked them around and an over-gentle mother who made excuses about “God’s will” right up to the minute until the cancer took her. He’d gone to college for football and only studied sports medicine so the coaches would play him in front of the scouts. His degree had only ever been a way to stay on the team. The game was everything he did and was.

In the quiet of the morning, with only the sound of his own breathing and footfalls for company, Tyler found solace in the memories of simpler problems, smaller pain. His dad abandoned them when Tyler turned twelve, leaving the family buried in debt without warning or explanation. Secretly, he’d celebrated the departure, same as Nadia, although they never admitted that to their heartbroken mom.

Keep going, asshole,he told himself, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You can do this.

More than anything, he hated feeling like a failure and a fake—all the names his dad had ever called him in anger when Tyler had been too small to fight back.

He knew that the track wouldn’t stay empty for more than an hour. By seven thirty the students and faculty would begin to arrive, and this quiet bubble of infinite possibility would come to an end. But for now he reveled in the solitude and the chance to focus on himself—a luxury he hadn’t known for years.

As the sky above began to lighten, Tyler couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of determination. He would face the challenges and beat them, because that’s what he always did. He’d emerge stronger than ever.

“Come on,” he urged, feeling the burn of exertion in his legs. One step at a time.

As Tyler rounded the curve of the track, the first rays of sunlight began to streak the sky. Dew glistened on the grass like scattered crystal, and the air was still crisp and cool. He focused on his breathing, in and out, in time with each stride, trying to ignore the stiffness in his legs and the lingering weakness from his heart attack. Tree. Cloud. Man.

Because right then, Tyler saw him.

A tall figure in the distance caught his eye, a muscular guy wearing a coach’s uniform, jogging toward him onto the track with an easy confidence that seemed almost magnetic.

Damn, Tyler thought, his eyes tracing the stranger’s impossible build. Who is that?

The man moved in perfect balance, his chiseled body, square jaw, and sandy hair gleaming dark gold in the rising light. No dumb gym body either. This guy had a build like a professional athlete—not football, but more like baseball or hockey maybe. He gave off an aura of command, authority even, that looked effortless and earned. Nothing exaggerated, nothing fake, nothing for show.

Tyler thought, quite clearly, Now that right there is a man I’d follow into any kind of trouble.

He blinked in genuine desire, battling the urge to close the distance between them and get a better look. Was that even possible?

Curiosity aroused, he tried to quicken his lumbering pace. His heart pounded in his chest—not just from exertion but from honest-to-God excitement. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to feel anything like this, to want someone real, and it thrilled him as much as it scared him.

Still, he knew good looks were an awful basis for any relationship. And heaven knew he’d dated plenty of hot jerks. This was something else.

Easy there, tiger, Tyler admonished himself, struggling to catch his wheezing breath as he closed in on the handsome figure. You’re still healing.

Still, he couldn’t help but push himself harder, driven by a sense of yearning he hadn’t experienced in years. As he drew closer, the tightness in his chest seemed to subside, replaced by an electric curiosity that both exhilarated and terrified him.

A sharp pain in his ribs made him falter. He couldn’t do it. His pace slowed to a humping trudge. Heart pounding, a stitch in his side, he eased up again. He’d pushed too hard, and he’d pay the price later. His racing heart struggled in his chest, and he fought to keep his breath deep and even to calm himself. He knew better. Pay attention.

In the end, the man closed the gap for him, coming up on his right flank, first as a steady pounding of the track, and then breaths, and then a presence.

As the man lapped him, he slowed down a moment and turned to nod at Tyler with a gentle smile that made Tyler’s heart stutter. Graceful and confident as an ancient warrior, the kind of hero kids try to impersonate on playgrounds. Perfection. The sudden rush of attraction took him by surprise.

Tyler smiled back as he passed and then dropped his eyes. That guy was familiar. Who was he?

And so beautiful. Like, catch-your-breath, stop-your-heart gorgeous. Perfect balanced strength. For a moment Tyler felt humiliated by his own hulking physique and crappy form. His body was a tank designed for rough combat.

The sun had begun to cast long shadows over the dew-silvered grass. Running like this felt good, right. He was weak, but not as weak as he’d feared. The gorgeous guy almost felt like a sign.

This was a good thing he was doing. Thank you, Dr. Reynolds.

When Tyler looked up again, his silent companion had moved ahead steadily with aggressive focus. He couldn’t help but be drawn to this guy; it was the first time he’d felt any arousal or even social interest since his heart attack. Tyler let his eyes linger with hollow longing on the muscular legs and the perfect V of his back, bisected by a stripe of healthy sweat.

He felt certain he recognized the guy. But from where? A player on another pro team? An actor or a model? How could anyone with that physique end up out in the middle of Nowhere, California, at this time of year? He knew that jaw, that nose, that face.

And then it hit him.

“Josh?” Tyler said out loud, with a rush of recognition that made him smile to himself. “Josh… umm. Ames? Aaron?” Just barely, he recalled the gangly boy from Nadia’s high school class, so shy he stuttered. “Ayres. Joshua Ayres.” Skinny as a fence post with hand-me-down clothes and huge damp eyes. Cute for sure, but so nervous.

“Damn.” A soft chuckle as Tyler watched grown-up Josh’s glorious butt pulling away from him. “Josh Ayres.”

He’d been one of the nerdy football groupies that hung around practices and came to away games no matter how far. They hadn’t known each other at all, for all the dumb adolescent reasons.

Early on, Tyler’s buddies had pegged Josh as a “homo” lurking at the back of the bleachers because of his intense eyes. Even before that, Tyler had noticed Josh’s hopeful stare and steered clear of him to protect them both.

Tyler didn’t even know if Josh was gay, but as a junior, the last thing he’d needed was rumors dogging him when college scouts visited. Nowadays, who cared? But back then, Tyler had known the only way he’d ever make the NFL was inside a rock-solid closet with multiple locks.

Nadia had known Josh a bit, if memory served. From… drama or math? Something foofy like that. Tyler couldn’t recall. Some terrifying subject cooler and smarter than Tyler was, for sure. Like Josh. One of the nerds who did their homework and used the library for more than whacking off between classes. “Holy shit.”

Nowadays libraries and smarts made Tyler’s heart go pitty-pat… and the way Josh looked in those shorts would most likely keep him up at night for the foreseeable future. Jesus crickets. Little Josh, all buffed up and ready for thirst traps.

He sure had blossomed. Tyler hoped he hadn’t been too gross or rude to him, back in the day.

Being in Nadia’s class meant Josh Ayres had to be two years younger, at least. Somewhere around thirty, maybe? Tyler tried to recall specific moments or a single conversation they’d shared back then, but all he could summon were hazy impressions of laughter and distant jeering, the ugly edges of teenage social hierarchies that made him feel like a closeted homophobic dick after the fact.

They’d probably never spoken a single word. Dumbass.

Tyler’s breath hitched slightly as he envisioned the younger, weaker Josh 1.0, a knobbly teen with smudgy glasses clutching books to his chest and hunching his shoulders to make himself invisible to the predatory jerks who roamed the halls. Tyler’s douchebag friends, most of them. Ugh.

Man, I should’ve been friendlier back then. Kinder, Tyler mused, his breath coming in short bursts as he strained to maintain his pace. Everything had seemed scarier then. He’d fought his own battles. The realization stung, sharpening his resolve to make amends, albeit years later, and gave him a renewed resolve.

He knew Nadia would smack him and say, “And that is what we call privilege, doofus.” Tyler felt that truth in his aching bones. In high school he’d been determined to save himself and his family. Football or nothing, feelings be damned.

His gaze kept darting to Josh, and he took in the smooth lines of his sweat-slicked legs propelling him forward, the sunlight catching his dark blond hair, the line of his throat, and the teasing swell in his coach’s shorts. The years had blessed Josh mightily.

The sky blazed up peach and rose as they continued running in parallel. A newfound sense of lust and curiosity stirred within him for the first time in months. A rush of heat coursed through his body, catching him off guard and making him feel alive again. Though he didn’t dare admit it, even to himself, the sensation of attraction and the stirrings of arousal brought a mixture of embarrassment and pride—a reminder that his libido hadn’t been busted along with his heart.

The realization sent a jolt through Tyler, awakening long-dormant feelings of desire and anticipation.

Tyler didn’t even fight the smile on his face.

To think he was now a virtual invalid who could barely drag himself off the couch, and that anxious, wimpy chess-club string bean had evolved into the rugged hunk currently stirring his loins and lapping him. Payback for the homecoming king. Tyler felt about two feet tall and ugly.

He snuck another long glance at those perfect arms, the square jaw. “Jeez.”

He couldn’t help but be fascinated by the transformation that had taken place in Josh over the years, the way his once scrawny frame had grown into sculpted muscle, how his tawny skin caught the rising sun.

As they circled the track, Tyler and Josh maintained a comfortable silence, their breaths and footsteps syncing. Josh might be running about twice his speed, but having him there definitely kept Tyler motivated, which was no bad thing.

Plus, the shared quiet was a balm to Tyler’s soul, allowing him to focus on the steady rhythms of his body and the easy company of someone who seemed to understand the luminous miracle of this time of day. What was the opposite of panic? Who needed three-three-three when you were suddenly seeing, hearing, moving everything right now on this track under this perfect sunrise?

After a half hour, their mutual silence became an unspoken understanding, allowing them to run together yet apart, free from the usual distractions of conversation or expectation.

Maybe that was the thing. Everyone wanted things from him, demanded favors, expected their backs scratched. Josh’s encouraging smile offered the first real hint of camaraderie he’d felt in years, without the assumptions and illusions some jerk had cooked up about the “rowdy, randy NFL star.”

The sun continued its slow ascent, tracing the dew in diamond light. For the first time since his heart attack, Tyler felt alive and present in his body. This simple act of running in the quiet had awakened something—a hunger for connection, for pursuit, a need to look closer, and the stupid hope that maybe here, around this track, for once he wasn’t running in circles.

Life is so funny.

As they continued their parallel journey, Tyler knew that whatever lay ahead for him—healing, self-discovery, or whatever—it all began here, behind the old gym, with a familiar stranger running in tandem on the other side of the track.

Tyler’s initial wariness about crossing paths with someone from his past melted away, replaced by a growing curiosity about Josh’s obvious transformation.

Josh lapped him again and, without breaking stride, cast another sideways glance at Tyler, and offered that friendly nod of acknowledgment again. This silent greeting had become part of the ritual. So Josh must have recognized him, which felt more surprising and important than it probably should have, given Tyler’s notoriety.

He smiled and nodded back, appreciating the tacit agreement to preserve the beauty of the predawn stillness. As their gazes met, Tyler felt a thrill of recognition and confirmation that this was indeed Josh Ayres, the timid teenager grown into a genuine grade-A stud.

As they continued their silent run and the sun crawled higher, Tyler felt his spark of hope catch flame, real eagerness now—for his recovery, for new connections, and for the chance at a future that was finally beginning to look bright again. Josh’s quiet strength and unbelievable transformation proved that possibilities were… possible.

Tyler nodded to himself. A real MVP pays attention to every member of the team. How many chances and choices had he missed while he was aimed at the life he thought he wanted? How many small miracles lay hidden beneath the surface of people he hadn’t noticed?

The rhythmic pounding on the track became a sort of meditation mantra, sanding the sharp edges of Tyler’s thoughts. Gradually, he allowed himself to slip into a zone where he could shed the weight of expectation and escape his fame and simply exist, free from judgment or assumptions. Each step brought him closer to a sense of purpose and self-worth.

After all, if Josh could change so dramatically, couldn’t he?

Tomorrow, Tyler vowed, a silent promise to the virtual stranger who had unknowingly lit a spark inside him. I’ll be back here tomorrow, and maybe something more might happen.

On Tyler’s last loop, both men gradually slowed their pace, their chests heaving with the effort. In unison, they slowed to a walk. The morning was nippy enough that steam rose from Josh’s skin and his. As they paced in place, they again exchanged another friendly nod, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

This brief morning encounter had changed everything for Tyler.

Josh ambled to the gym’s back door to stretch against the rail. Tyler kept his distance, unsure of how welcome he’d be any closer than this.

As Tyler made his slow trek off the field, they smiled at each other as though they shared a secret, a kinship formed and a tacit promise of… something. He hadn’t felt this kind of absolute focus and calm in months. Anticipation—that was the word.

See you tomorrow?Tyler considered saying, rehearsing the words in his mind, but he hesitated, unsure if asking was too rude, too weird, too selfish. Instead, he simply held Josh’s smiling gaze for a moment longer and let the soft silence speak for itself.

Before he could do anything dumb or embarrassing, Tyler turned and strode away from the track, his body thrumming with adrenaline and a delicious heat he hadn’t felt in way too long.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Tyler walked out through the field gates to the car, his banged-up heart swelling with gratitude for the unexpected encounter.

Josh Ayres. Who would’ve thought?

Tomorrow, then. Without fail. He’d be back here tomorrow, and the tomorrow after. And hopefully, Josh would too.

Tyler had initially planned to run a couple times a week, to use these early mornings as a bare minimum to escape his rut and clear his mind. But now, thanks to the haunting beauty of Josh, Tyler found himself with a rock-solid reason to return every single day.

Tyler barely remembered the drive. At some point on the way home, he swung by the farmer’s market to pick up eggs like a normal person would. He didn’t remember opening his wallet, so he hoped he’d paid for them. He’d check tomorrow, and pay triple just in case.

By the time he was back at his sister’s front door, full daylight blazed at the horizon, kissing Tyler’s back as he unlocked and entered the little foyer. The familiar creak of the floorboards and the faint scent of his mother’s drugstore perfume brought a comforting sense of nostalgia, grounding him in the place where he’d made himself up. For the first time in years, Tyler felt like he truly belonged somewhere.

“Tyler? Were you out this early?” Nadia called from the kitchen, her voice rising over the sizzle of bacon on the stovetop. Mr. Poops wove hopefully between her legs, bleating for his bowl. “How was your run?”

“Better than I expected,” he replied, dropping his duffel bag by the door. “I met someone.”

“You— You what? Really? Whore,” she said, raising an eyebrow playfully as she plated the bacon and eggs. “Do tell.”

“Not meet, meet. But I saw someone who I don’t really know. I didn’t know exactly.” He shook his head to try and make it make sense to her. “Something happened.”

She frowned and stepped toward him. “Something bad? Are you okay?”

“Something great, actually. I think.” Tyler rubbed his face, still uncertain how to explain.

She gave him a weird, worried look. “Uhhh-kay. Who did you meet at this hour?”

“Josh Ayres,” Tyler confessed, leaning against the kitchen counter and watching as Nadia’s eyes widened in surprise and pleasure. “Remember him? Scrawny kid in high school, bookworm, lived in the library. Chess or drama a lot too, I think.”

“Both, actually. Wow, that’s a nice surprise.” Nadia chuckled. She bent to pour kibble into the cat’s bowl and scratched under Mr. Poops’s chin before straightening. The cat squeaked approvingly. “Coaches football and track at the high school now. And teaches advanced history or philosophy sometimes. Something hard.” She shrugged. “Nice guy.”

“Yeah. He’s… different now. Stronger, confident. And, well, not so scrawny anymore,” Tyler said, a hint of awe coloring his tone.

“Not even a little. He grew up hot. Like porn hot. Wild.”

“You’ve seen him, then.”

“Duh! Dumbass, I live here. We’ve been friends forever. Mom knew him. We didn’t stop existing when you moved away. Cinnamar ain’t big. I’ve known Joshua my whole life.”

“I guess, but I didn’t realize you two were that tight.” He knew he was acting strange but couldn’t stop.

“Everybody knows everybody. But he’s a really close friend.” She swatted at him with the spatula. “FYI, for the record, the whole entire town is, like, obsessed with his butt.”

“Mmmh?” Tyler tried to look nonchalant.

“Legs too. And his arms, actually. Big blue eyes. And Bernice at the drugstore has a real thing about his dimple.”

“He has a dimple too?”

“Well, well, well….” Nadia crooked an eyebrow and an evil grin, no doubt aware of the implications. “Is the big bad jock getting worked up working out with a nice small-town boy? I think I saw that Christmas movie, doofus.”

“Come on, it’s not like that,” Tyler protested, but his cheeks flushed hot. He couldn’t help but find himself drawn to Josh, his beauty and the strange silent connection they’d shared.

“Right,” Nadia teased, handing him a plate stacked with breakfast. “I’m sure your appreciation of his massive deltoids is purely platonic.”

“I didn’t— We didn’t even talk, Nadia. How would I? I didn’t even know him.”

“You’re an NFL player, doof. The whole town knows you. Doreen keeps a goddamn scrapbook on you that she takes to people’s houses. Swear to God.” She raised her right hand.

“No. I meant in school. Me-me. Real me. He probably doesn’t even remember me from back then. Or maybe I was a dick. He probably hated my guts.”

Nadia paused then, just searching his eyes a moment, as though she wanted to confess something, but after a long awkward silence, she did not.

“What?”

“Y’know?” She stole a piece of bacon off his plate and ate it as she teased him. “He does the town calendar every year as a favor, and he’s not even a firefighter. But he’s always July, so it’s always Lycra trunks. Child! Hot. And smart. And nice. I mean, I know you got all them athletic supporters on speed dial in San Diego, but y’know: hamburger, steak.” She mimed scales and weighed the gay hookup options for him.

“Okay, fine,” Tyler admitted, rolling his eyes. “I’m not blind. He’s attractive, for sure. But it was a… a feeling more than anything. A good one. He gave me space. I can’t remember the last time someone gave me that kind of space.”

“Well, good,” Nadia mused, her teasing tone replaced with gentle warmth. “Wait, so you didn’t talk. Were you rude? I hope you weren’t rude to him. He’s, like, the nicest.”

“No? I don’t think so. I’m not sure. Well, maybe,” Tyler allowed, taking a bite of eggs. “I can’t explain it. It felt right.” In his heart, he knew something had shifted this morning, a first step. “Running. Sunrise. Breathing. He just… helped me being there.”

“Of course he did. That’s Joshua.” She nodded like she understood, and maybe she did.

They tucked into breakfast, including Mr. Poops, who smacked happily at his bowl in the corner.

“Well, I’m definitely running again. It felt great. Which means I guess I’ll probably see him tomorrow. He seemed like a good guy.”

“He is. So promise me one thing,” Nadia said, her voice suddenly serious. “Let yourself heal, Ty. Catch your breath. You deserve happiness just as much as anyone else.”

Tyler looked into his sister’s eyes and saw all the worries and hopes she kept to herself. He nodded, holding tight to this funny, sunny feeling he couldn’t shake. He held up his index finger and dragged two lines across his chest. “Cross my heart.”