Page 97 of The Wrong Move

The medical staff has gathered around me. They heave me upright, and four of them carry me around the court. Cameras flash in my face. The applause is deafening. Pushing through the pain, I clench my jaw to wave and smile, projecting determination to return to the court.

Charlotte appears, walking briskly alongside the doctor. I bite my tongue before I say something sarcastic. She speaks quietly to the doc, flicks me a look, and drops back behind me. Inside the doctor’s room, I’m transferred onto a table, and the courtside staff leaves so it’s only Doc, Charlotte, and me.

“We’ll win.” The positivity inside me is cracking. I glance at Charlotte. She nods and stands against the wall, giving the doctor room to examine me. He tilts my foot a little each way, and I cringe. “Fuuuck.” The pain is intense.

“We’ll get you an ice bucket and arrange a transfer for imaging.”

“An x-ray?” Charlotte asks.

He glances over the rim of his glasses at Charlotte. “And an MRI. We need answers ASAP. Excuse me while I make some calls.”

Doc leaves me in the room with Charlotte.

“I didn’t see this coming.” I shrug. Yet, in hindsight, I was warned. I close my eyes and shake my head. I did everything expected of me. Months ago, at the performance center, Nate highlighted the potential risk of an ankle injury. I have visited the center an extra four times a month to ensure I am on track to strengthening and stabilizing my ankle.How?How did this happen?

“Lottie, I have done fucking everything to prevent this from happening.”

Charlotte pushes off the wall. “BJ was open. Why didn’t you make the pass?”

The fuck?

“You think this is my fault because I didn’t make the pass?” I say between clenched teeth.

“I’m saying if you weren’t so stubborn, you would have passed it to him and not let our relationship impact your game and decision-making. For years, you two have combined well. This…” she circles her hand between us, “… needs to stop. We all need to move on.”

I can’t breathe with the anger ripping through my body. Every inch of me wants to scream at her.

“First, thanks for your support. I thought you fucking cared.”

“Byron, I do,” she says in a softer voice.

“Second…” I say louder, “… Coach instructed me to pass to Jye. He said to wait for him to get open, and I’d better deliver him the fucking ball.” Charlotte closes her mouth, her wide eyes fixed on me. “So yourboyfrienddeliberately distracted me from the play. He heard Coach’s instructions. Maybe if he hadn’t made it look like I wouldn’t give him the ball and made a fucking screen or something to help me get it to Jye, then I mightn’t be here.” I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire arena heard me.

Charlotte is beside me, her hand on my shoulder. “You’re going to be okay, Byron.”

I cover my eyes with a bent arm. “You don’t know that.”

“Are you in pain?” Charlotte’s voice is calming. It’s the old Charlotte I used to know.

“Yeah,” I mutter without lifting my arms from my eyes. My throat tightens with a mixture of anger, frustration, and fear of the unknown. The way my foot throbs, I’d say it’s more than a sprain. “Go back out there and catch the final minutes of the game. We need this win, and you should be there to see it.”

She rubs my shoulder. “It’s okay. I can stay here with you.”

I lift my arm and stare at my sister.

“Thanks for the offer, but you represent the team. You need to be out there.” While I love that my sister wants to comfort me, I know what is expected of her, and she has a role to play, just as I do on the court. I know there is a bigger picture where we are both involved, and my family will be waiting for answers. “Tell Mom and Dad I’m fine. Make sure BJ doesn’t mess things up.”

She offers a half smile. “I’ll check back after the game, okay?” I signal with a thumbs-up. “I do love BJ. I always have.”

Always?I don’t say anything because she has just confirmed they have kept this from me longer than I thought.

While I should be happy she has found a decent guy—I don’t know anyone more genuine than Brandon—it’s going to take a while for me to accept that my two favorite people lied to me.

I need time.

My cell dingsevery few minutes with a text message. I missed the last quarter and the win.

I’m in a waiting room, waiting on MRI results. While awaiting the doctor, I watched the highlights of the last quarter on my cell—Brandon playing in my position and scoring ten points for the game.

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