On The Rebound (Steinbeck U #1) - L.A. Cotton Page 0,28
I had ties to two of SU’s star players.
And Josie was right…
That was a problem.
Zach
“Zach, good to see you, son.” Coach Baxter motioned to the chair opposite his desk. “Take a seat.”
“Thanks, Coach.” I ran a hand through my damp hair.
“How is it being back?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“You can be honest. It’s as weird as hell, am I right?”
He wasn’t wrong. But I didn’t want to admit that. Admitting it made it real and making it real made it something I had to deal with.
I preferred to bury my head in the sand.
“I’m ready for the season, sir,” I said.
“I don’t doubt it, Zach. You’re in great shape. I hear you’re pushing yourself in conditioning. Don’t go too hard, we don’t want any injuries before we get to see you in action on the court.”
“You got it, Coach.”
“How are things at home? With your parents and Declan?” He swallowed hard.
“They can’t let go,” I said, feeling my muscles tense.
“He’s a fighter. If anyone can pull through, it’s Declan.”
What the fuck was I supposed to say to that?
He wasn’t going to pull through, and even if he did, he was paralyzed from the chest down. His life as he knew it was over.
“You know, son, this team has had some real bad luck over the eighteen months. First, Maverick had his accident, and then Declan. It’s about time we broke that cycle.”
“Yes, sir.” I’d become robotic, unable to provide anything except generic answers.
“We’re counting on you to help us get the job done, Zach.”
I let out a strained breath. It really didn’t matter to these people that Declan, my brother, was lying in a private facility being kept alive by a bunch of machines and doctors. I was only here to honor his legacy, to finish the job he started.
It was total bullshit.
My fingers curled around the arm of the chair, tight enough to turn white. “I’ll try my best, sir,” I gritted out, because this was my life.
Whether I wanted it or not.
“Now, your father called the other day. They want us to consider an exhibition game.”
“He isn’t dead,” I snapped.
“No, he isn’t. But they want to raise awareness and donate proceeds to the facility. I’ve begun reaching out to some alumni players. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”
“When?”
“The weekend before official practice season.”
That was in a little under a month.
Fuck.
“I know it’s a lot. But you’ve got this, son. You’re going to make everyone proud this season.” He tapped his desk as if it was a done deal, and I knew it was.
My parents wanted an exhibition game... they’d get an exhibition game. Because Timothy Messiah wasn’t a man you told no. Besides, his check book was big enough to make sure the answer was always yes.
“Is that all, Coach?” My voice was tight as I fought hard to maintain control. I couldn’t snap, not here.
“Yeah, get out of here, and remember what I said, don’t push too hard in the gym.” His eyes held some deeper meaning, as if he knew why I did it. As if he knew exactly why I pushed my body to its physical limit.
I got the hell out of there and went to class.
At least there, no one would try to talk to me. No one would ask questions or tell me they were looking to me to take the team all the way.
I was at SU to play basketball, to be an athlete, but the court wasn’t supposed to offer me any solace.
It was supposed to be my own personal version of hell.
Only, it wasn’t.
And I hated it.
I managed to avoid Calli all week. Between classes, conditioning, and practice, it didn’t leave much downtime.
It was Thursday, and I was leaving third period when I finally saw her. She wasn’t alone though. Calli and Joel were walking down the path, huddled close, like two old friends sharing a joke. Her laughter was like a punch to the gut. It drifted over to me, coiling around my heart like barbed wire. Sharp… jagged… deadly.
She looked happy, grinning up at Joel like he hung the fucking moon.
My teammate.
My friend.
Anger exploded in my veins. She wasn’t supposed to be latching onto the team and making them her own. The team was mine, whether I wanted it or not. The team was my territory.
Before I knew what I was doing, I’d cut across the street to them.
“Zach, my man.” Joel noticed me first, holding out his fist. I bumped it, giving him a curt nod.