"You're wheezing like an old man, dude." Tyson grinned as he bumped his shoulder against Ezra's.

Ezra flipped him off, tilted his head back, and held his water bottle above him. With his eyes squinted shut, he sprayed a stream of water onto his face.

Fuck, he needed that. He tossed the bottle down beside him and leaned back on his hands in the grass, glancing to the side. His best friend's black curls were stuck to his dark skin.

"There was a hot guy on the other team. Makes you run just a little faster, you know?"

Tyson chuckled. "Show-off."

"You're full of it," said Jett as she dropped down beside them. "Still thinking about that biker, aren't you?"

"Maybe. But that should be all the more reason to look for someone else."

"My sister's still dying to go on a date with you."

Lacey's sister was over forty, had two ex-husbands, and five kids. Not exactly the kind of relationship he was looking for.

"You really not gonna give it another shot?" Jett asked. "I mean—Wes turned me down six times too."

"Seven," Wes corrected her, shaking his head with exaggerated heartbreak. "So many wasted years."

Jett shrugged. "You were being a complete idiot. Took you forever to act even remotely mature. Emphasis on remotely."

Wes threw his arms around his girlfriend and pulled her into his undoubtedly sweaty chest. "And now you just can't get enough of all my bodily fluids."

"Gross." Lacey shook her head. She was the only one in their five-person friend group who hadn't gone to the same high school.

Ezra had met her during his plumbing training, and two years ago, they'd started a plumbing business together. As a woman, it had been tough for her to land a job at a company, and Ezra had always wanted to start his own business anyway. Teaming up had sounded good from the start, and it worked.

"But seriously, Ez," Jett went on—ever the hopeless romantic. "Giving up this quick? That's not like you. I mean, I remember Iris back in our senior year. You really went all out for her."

"Five months of effort for a relationship that lasted less than three weeks. Not worth repeating." Ezra took another sip of water. "And she was a terrible kisser, too."

The others burst out laughing.

The group they'd just played soccer against wandered over with a cooler. The hot guy had his arm around a woman who hadn't joined the game. Yeah, not much to invest in there.

Someone tossed them a few cold beers.

Ezra was always surprised Wes managed to round up new groups to play against. The guy probably knew everyone around here. The field they used had once belonged to the local club, which had gone bankrupt a few years back. Some housing project was supposed to be built, but there hadn't been any signs of progress.

Wes had played here as a kid, and he lived practically next door. A few years ago, it had become their monthly hangout spot, a way to make sure they didn't drift apart. It had worked—sort of. They used to meet up with nine of the old crew, but now only four of them still showed up. The rest were too busy or had moved away.

Yeah, it had been ten years since high school. Ezra thought they were doing pretty well, actually, seeing each other this regularly and staying so loyal to their monthly soccer matches. Wes always found a new team to go up against.

Ezra cracked open his beer. Jett's question lingered in the back of his mind. It's not like you to give up so easily, right? No, she had a point. He was willing to make an effort for someone—man or woman. He could be patient, too.

But with Phantom? That felt like beating a dead horse. The guy was clearly in the closet and scared to come out. And honestly—Ezra got that. Especially after what had happened to his friend. But it was something Phantom had to deal with himself, and Ezra didn't see how he could help.

He didn't know that whole biker world. Had no desire to get to know it either. He'd seen enough gang violence for one lifetime. Half his life had been spent trying to pull his brother out of that mess. Whatever he did, it kept dragging him back in. He didn't have the energy to go through that again with Phantom.

Besides, he barely knew the guy.

Sure, they'd had some good conversations at the hospital. Ezra had felt a pull to him—more than just physical—and he knew it had been mutual. But that was it. One meeting. The second time had been a major letdown. And Phantom had been crystal clear.

He didn't want anything, and Ezra would respect that.

He could maybe give his number to Phoenix, just in case Phantom changed his mind—but deep down, he knew he'd only be fooling himself.

It was better to move on. Focus on someone else. Someone new would come along, eventually. It sucked right now, yeah—but he'd do what he always did: push through and keep going.

His phone rang. He reached for the pile of wallets and phones they'd left during the game and grabbed his.

For one ridiculous second, his heart skipped a beat while hoping Phantom was calling to take it all back.

But it was his mom's photo on the screen.

He stood up and took a few steps away from the others so their chatter wouldn't drown out the call.

"Ma?" He pressed a hand to his ear to hear her better. A flicker of tension crept in. Her moods could swing fast.

"Ezra?" Her voice was sharp. Panicked.

He stifled a sigh and tried not to hold it against her. But there went his relaxed evening.

"Yeah. Are you home?"

"Yes. Your—your brother..."

"I'm coming. Stay put." He hated talking to his mom on the phone when she wasn't doing well. It was much easier to tell in person whether she was having a delusion or if something was actually wrong. "Be right there."

Before she could protest, he hung up and walked back to the others.

"That was Ma," he said with a sigh to Tyson, grabbing his bag. "I gotta go."

"Shit. Bad?"

"Can't really tell yet."

Tyson nodded. "Alright. Keep us posted."

"Will do." He turned to the rest of the group. They all knew his mom had schizoaffective disorder, and that sometimes her delusions felt so real to her, Ezra had to come check if there was really something going on. "Catch you guys later!"

Still in his workout clothes, he walked to his car. He tossed his sports bag in the back and climbed behind the wheel. For a moment, he just stared out the windshield, dazed.

Here we go again.