Tuesday the weight room was loud. Metal on metal. Someone had the speakers up too high. Tate was on bench. Knox stepped in to spot without being asked. That was normal. They had done this a hundred times.

Tate unracked the bar. Knox’s hands hovered under it, palms up, ready. Tate lowered the weight. Pressed. Lowered again. On the fifth rep his arms started to shake. Knox’s fingers brushed the bar.

“I got you,” Knox said.

Same words as always. They landed different. Tate pushed the bar back into the rack harder than he needed to. The plates rattled. He sat up and reached for his water like nothing had...