Page 100 of The Wrong Move

“I never told him.”

“I know. When BJ told him, he flew into a rage and has shot daggers at me and BJ ever since.”

Oh boy.

“If I got a chance, I was going to leave hints for him but then decided against it because we know how much Byron hates being lied to.”

“Yeah.” She tilts her head back before meeting my gaze. “How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know. He’s also angry at me, so I have to tread carefully while he navigates this injury.”

“He’s devastated.” Charlotte gently shakes her head, her eyes watering. “He’s out for the season, even though he believes there’s a chance he’ll play the finals.”

“No?”

“Yeah. He’ll be replaced by the rookie guard, and if the rookie performs, they won’t play Byron, who isn’t one hundred percent fit. It’s a business. My family understands it has to come before Byron’s ambitions.”

Shit.

“His world is basketball,” I add. “Imagine his mindset if he suffers a career-ending injury.”

“And that’s what worries me,” she says. “The BJ-and-me problem will be old news soon as he loves both of us. It’s his future that concerns me. I think about players whose careers have ended because of substance abuse.”

“Byron is disciplined and focused. He barely drinks?—”

“When he’s on top of the world. Remember his freshman year?”

My stomach drops for the second time. “It’s a time I wanted to forget.”

“Together, we can stop him from falling again.”

If he allows us to help.

We return to his room to find Brandon standing beside his bed. We can’t see either of their faces, yet we can hear their raised voices.

“It’s not about Lottie and you,” Byron roars. “You were someone I trusted. Both of you were. So don’t give me bullshit excuses.”

Charlotte and I stare at one another. She goes to march into the room, but I stop her. “Give them a minute,” I whisper.

“I don’t give two fucks what you two do now. What I’m pissed about is that I’m lying here because you didn’t listen to Coach. You made me out as an asshole on the court. It wasn’t about you scoring in my position. You heard the play Coach wanted, and I called it. Then you distracted me, and here I am. Why didn’t you set a screen, man? You talk about me, but you’re a selfishbastard, and I’m here because of you!” He yells the final blow. Brandon turns and storms out of the room.

“Babe.” Charlotte lays a hand on his arm. He doesn’t meet her gaze.

“I’m outta here.”

“Give him time,” she whispers. “He’s just got out of surgery.”

“I tried,” he whispers and shakes his head. “I’ll see you later.” She touches his shoulder, but he strides away. She watches him walk past the nurses toward the exit.

“You should go and talk to him. I’ll stay with Byron.”

She wipes a tear from her eye. “He’ll come around to us eventually, but this injury has affected him to the point where he thinks everyone is the enemy. I need to be here to support you.”

We look into Byron’s room. His head is tilted on the pillow, his eyes shut. There are IVs, drains, and cords coming from his limbs. What was Brandon thinking coming today?

I creep into his room, lean in, and kiss his cheek. His eyes flutter open. His watery eyes kill me. My chest constricts. He closes his eyes again. “Not now, Gigi.”

I swallow the lump in the back of my throat.

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