Page 135 of Breaking Away

“I’ve seen you limp, I think. Once, maybe more times. And you wrapped it up, when you wore—” Her cheeks flush. “—the apron.”

“Should I bring it out again? The apron.”

“Do you not want to talk about it? You can tell me you don’t.”

That’s not the problem. The issue is I do, but it’s like peeling off tape that’s been on for years. You don’t know what’s left underneath.

Kavi takes my hand and brings it over her heart, staring at me with those pleading eyes. “I promise you can trust me.”

“Do you remember Sam?”

“That girl you were seeing senior year in high school. Did she slash your knee, then?”

“Kind of.”

“Seriously? I was only kidding!”

“It didn’t happen exactly like that. It happened at a bar,” I say, sharing how Sam and I took a random trip that changed my life. I describe the fight in the bar and how scared I was when I woke up in the hospital thinking I was alone.

“She didn’t check in on you? Not evenonce?”

“I was glad.”

“But your knee–”

“My dad helped rehabilitate it.”

She whooshes out a noise. “There’s a story there, isn’t there?”

“It might upset you.”

“He pushed and pushed you, didn’t he?”

I nod. He still tries to. She doesn’t know about my present. That I’m one bad hit from being benched forever, my contract not renewed. My knee is unspooling and I can’t stop it. The games I have left in me are counting down. Rapidly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks gently.

I tip her face, brushing my mouth over hers. “Another time, Princess. For now, put your hands on the bed frame for me.”

Kavi shudders as I settle myself between her legs again. “Let me make you feel good this time. It’syourturn.”

“This is my turn.”

53

KAVI

Tim isa mid-fifties clean-shaven bald man in a well-fitted suit. He’s agreed to a meeting today before the game tonight. I haven’t told Dmitri I skipped my Seattle interview or that I hope to stay in Vancouver. I want to see if Icanapply for the social media manager position.

“Kavi Basra?” Tim waves me into his office.

“That’s me.” I fidget, apparently still awkward enough. I guess when it comes to photography, my emotions slip-slide between progress and uncertainty.

He folds his hands on the desk. “I was disappointed you didn’t take our offer.”

Disappointed? Offer?

The incredulity must be obvious on my face because Tim wonders, “Didn’t you get my email?”

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