Page 64 of Don't Let Go

My phone’s screen lit up. I got another message.

Is the game over yet?

No. We’re at halftime and we’re winning so far. Fingers crossed. Why?

Nevermind.

My gut twisted. There was something wrong.

What’s up? Tell me.

I don’t want to worry you.

I’m already worried. Spill!

I’m sorry. I need a ride. It’s not a big deal. Forget it.

I can order you a rideshare from my phone. Where are you?

I’m a magnet for bad things. Just forget it. I’ll figure it out. Win that game!

Rory, please!

She didn’t reply.

James tapped my shoulder. “Everything okay?”

I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t know. Au—” I looked over and saw Paolo talking to Christopher. I didn’t want him to go off knowing I was talking to Rory.

“Nothing. I’m good.”

“Awesome. Coach has some words for us before we go back out there.” He motioned for me to follow him out of the locker room and into the hallway.

Please let Rory be okay. Paolo was here, so what could she be afraid of? Did he hire someone to hurt her?

The coach’s pep talk flew into one ear and out the other. His words didn’t make sense because Paolo stood across from me. We were staring each other down. My hands shook from seething. It didn’t matter if what was going on with Rory wasPaolo’s doing or not. He still deserved an ass-whipping for countless other misdeeds.

James nudged me. “You okay?”

I nodded, realizing the meeting concluded and everyone left for the court to finish the game. “I’m fine,” I finally answered, jogging to catch up with the others.

James tagged along. He gave me a quizzical look but didn’t say more.

No matter how many times Paolo was open, I refused to throw him the ball. Others could pass to him with no problem, as for me, I wanted to beat his head in with the basketball. He had to have something to do with Rory acting all cagey, and now I’m finishing this game instead of helping her.

For the fifth time, Paolo waved his arms wildly for me to pass. I bounced the basketball between my hands and took a stab at throwing the ball midway from the basket to score some points.

I made the shot!

We were up by twelve points and only five minutes left in the game. The rest of the time was spent playing defense. The other team never had a chance. We kept stealing their ball.

When the game ended, everyone cheered, and we all bumped fists. Paolo came at me like a dog with a bone. He was almost salivating with all the anger built up inside.

“I’m going to kill you!” Paolo shouted, trying to reach me, but the team filed around me.

Christian pushed Paolo back. “We won! Can’t you be happy?”

“Happy? That dick never gave me the ball. I might as well be riding the bench.” Paolo pointed at me. The hate in his eyes said he would love to wrap his hands around my neck and choke me to death.

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