I sit at the edge of his bed. “I can’t believe you shot off your toe.”
He forces a smile. “I don’t know what happened. I was adjusting the rifle, and the next thing I knew, I lost my footing and… well, you know what happened next.”
“It’s a freak accident,” Mom says.
Dad grunts, shoving his hands into his pockets. I can tell what he’s thinking without him speaking. He’s disappointed in Shaun. My dad is tough, and if you’re not as strong as him, he considers it a weakness. That’s why I’ve always pushed people away. The second I sniffed out what he would’ve considered a weakness, I walked away from that person.
Oh, shit. I forgot my cell phone on the table in the kitchen. Drake won’t admit it, but I know he gets worried when he doesn’t hear from me. I usually text him back right away, but it’s been hours since he asked if I could talk.
“What’s for dinner?” my brother asks with laughter in his tone.
My dad shakes his head, his expression devoid of emotion.
“We can eat in the cafeteria,” I offer. “It will be like old times at the chow hall.”
They’re serving turkey dinner in the cafeteria. No matter the circumstances, my family always makes it work.
Dad flashes a genuine smile for once.
After we eat dinner in Shaun’s hospital room, we stay until visiting hours are over. The doctor wants to keep him overnight for observation.
When we arrive back at the rental, I go straight for the kitchen. Drake’s texted me at least a dozen times. So, I send him a quick text.
Taylor: Sorry, spent Thanksgiving in the hospital. I’m okay. I’ll explain later. I hope your holiday was better than mine.
Drake calls me within seconds of receiving the message. He settles down once I tell him the story. I rest my head on a stack of pillows as we rehash the details of our days. I’m so exhausted, yet comfortable with Drake, that after ten minutes, I end up falling asleep with him still on the line.
Jackie elbows me in the side, knocking me off balance. My sneakers slide along the court, and I almost lose possession of the ball because of it. We’re on the same damn scrimmage team. What the fuck is she doing?
Giving Jackie a wicked look, I pass the ball back to Bex. She’s the top shooting guard in the league, with far better ball handling skills than anyone on our team. I don’t know why Jackie’s been pushing me around since we got back from the break. This isn’t the first time she’s elbowed me on purpose and then flashed a cocky smirk in response to my anger.
Bex dribbles the ball, sweeping it between her legs as she looks for the open player. Dodging the girl guarding me, I pivot my foot, my hands in front of me to intercept the ball. With a quick dribble and roll to my right, I slip past my opponent about to make the layup when someone kicks their foot out in front of me.
I fall flat on my face, my chin hitting the court hard. An intense pain shoots through my skull, forcing my eyes shut. The ball rolls beneath the basket and hits the padded wall in the gymnasium. I blink a few times to regain my vision, and then Bex is standing above me calling my name.
She holds out her hand, which I gladly accept. When I rise to my feet, I have trouble standing. Clutching her shoulder, I suck in a deep breath, wondering what just happened.
“I think someone tripped me,” I say.
She grinds her teeth. “It was Jackie.”
“What is wrong with her?”
“It’s because of Drake. Apparently, she’s been telling everyone on the team you are his new whore and that he sees her on the side.”
“Are you kidding me?”
She shakes her head, helping me over to the bench. “I overheard her talking to Crystal and Dawn.”
Still somewhat delirious, I can’t even think straight. Bex’s words make little sense. Why would Jackie do this to me? I did nothing to her. Not unless you count dating Drake. But he was fair game, never hers to claim. I knew dating Drake would put a target on my back. Though, I never expected my own teammates to hold grudges.
After practice, we hit the showers. I’m exhausted from jet lag, my schedule is still out of whack even after a week back on campus. The three-hour time difference hits me every time.
Jackie grips the edge of her locker, so I take this as an opportunity to pay her back for the shit she pulled on the court. Pushing on the door, I slam her fingers against the wall. She cries out in pain, stumbling backward as she grabs her hand.
Her eyes meet mine, and a fire brews behind them. “You fucking whore,” she spits.
I laugh in her face. “I know you tripped me because you’re jealous that I’m with Drake. News flash, Jackie, he’s mine. So cut the shit already.”
