Page 153 of Before I Loved You

Gripping Glen’s shoulder, I scan the faces of my teammates. These men look up to me, not because of the last name on my jersey, but because of what I’ve brought to the table with my skills and talent to every game we’ve had so far. “I’m not going to sugarcoat things for you. Detroit is tough, and they won’t back down tonight without a fight. They’re ruthless with an unstoppable winning streak, but that ends tonight! They’re on our home court! These are our fans! And we are going to show them tonight what Boston does best.” Everyone waits for me to say the magic words. “What is Boston going to do?” I roar.

“Win!” they all chant back.

“We’re going to show them whose house this is, boys!” Hollers erupt around me as I place my fist in the middle, waiting for everyone to join. “Let’s get out there and give them a night they’ll never forget! Linrey University on three. One… Two… Three!”

“Linrey University!” we all roar before separating, making our way to our prospective spots on the court or the bench.

As I walk toward the center of the court, Coach Rivers shouts, “No word from Greyson?”

I shake my head. Fuck, this isn’t good.

Coach nods and puts his phone to his ear, appearing distressed.

Pushing down the unease creeping up inside me, I stride to the half-court line and wait in the center circle. The opposing player has to look up at me as he draws near, and I already know this will be an easy tip-off. The ball will be ours in a matter of seconds.

The referee approaches, standing beside us with a whistle in his mouth. I crouch down slightly, ready to spring upwards when the ref blows the whistle, releasing the ball into the air so I’m the first one to reach it.

And that’s precisely what I do.

* * *

Fifteen minutes into the game, I glance over at Sarah’s empty seat. I don’t think much of it until a few more minutes go by, and she’s still not there. With the ball in my hands, I dribble toward my mom, passing it off to Glen, and then quickly face my mom and mouth, Where’s Sarah?

She mouths, bathroom, but something doesn’t feel right.

Glen scores, running a lay-up to the backboard, and then runs past me, brows furrowed as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, eyes glued to Sarah’s empty seat. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

As one of my teammates blocks a shot and steals the ball, he passes it to me, probably expecting me to pass it to our point guard, but instead, I slowly pace up the court, dribbling the ball leisurely beside me. My eyes move to the scoreboard, viewing our leading score by twenty points. We’ve been on a back-and-forth nonstop sprint, and I shouldn’t slow down the pace of the game, not yet, anyway. But I can’t help my gut instinct that overrides every logical part of me as I approach the center line and call timeout, catching my team by surprise.

Tossing the ball to Glen, I jog backward.

“Where are you going?” he yells, his arms in the air.

“I’ll be right back. Stall for me!”

“How?”

I shrug. “You’ll think of something.”

Spinning around, I dart down the hallway toward the locker room. Every instinct tells me, no, demands me to head this way. And the second I barge through the locker room doors and come to a complete stop from the sight before me, I understand why.

My stomach plummets from pure, unfiltered terror. My heart pounds violently beneath my rib cage. And my fists clench painfully by my sides.

Sarah.

My Sarah is on her knees, shaking, with tears pouring down her cheeks and trembling hands bound before her. A piece of silver duct tape is placed over her mouth, preventing her from saying anything as her eyes plead for me…to what?

To leave?

Does she really think I would ever leave her?

Has she not been listening to me this whole time?

To the words, I promised her.

“I will never let you go.”

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