Page 52 of Broken

Annie: No, sis. What’s up?

I winced, sometimes hating our twin vibe. Annie’s had always been stronger. Which was bull crap if you asked me. I sensed things with her, but they were more vague, her emotionsneeding to be more extreme, but every now and then something small would trickle through.

Me: Just stressed. It’ll pass.

I hoped.

Me: I think it’s the Baste Academy audition coming up. I need my routine to be perfect. My one with Leo is looking good, but I need a solo performance, too.

Which wasn’t a lie. Just not the whole truth. Guilt weighed at my middle.

Annie: I’m sure you’ll get it down. Your choreography is amazing.

Me: Thanks.

She sent me a smiley face, and I tucked my phone into my sweater pocket. It wasn’t my choreography I was worried about. Okay, a little bit, but more so the fact that I kept getting dizzy after just a couple of hours of practice. I was never going to be ready at this rate if I kept having to stop. My stomach swooped again with my stress, and I had to shove back the urge to cry, all of it suddenly overwhelming.

I felt a buzz from another text and glanced at my Fitbit, not bothering to pull out my phone.

Annie: Want me to come over there?

I smiled, my love-hate relationship with our twin vibe flipping back to positive.

Please.

I was just pulling my phone back out to text when I dropped it, watching it bounce to another row of the bleachers. I cringed, hoping nothing had happened to the screen, and headed down the steps to go grab it. I had to search for a minute to find it tucked under the seat and blew the cobwebs off. I’d just stood when a sharp tug struck my chest, like an invisible tether being yanked, and I gasped.

Annie!

ANNIE

My fingers tapped at my phone as I chatted with Izzy. Something was definitely going on, and while I was sure the stress of her audition was part of it, I knew she was holding back. I could just sense it. I just didn’t understand why she didn’t want to share. We’d always shared everything. Mostly.

It’s probably one of those times she needs to think through it first. I tried to convince myself that was it, but I really wasn’t sure. All I knew was that if she wasn’t ready to confide in me yet, it was my job to be there for her.

Sending her a quick text to see if she wanted me to join her, I looked out at the field, hoping to see a little more of Jet’s play time.

Today there had been a lot of practice plays, running through the ones they thought would help best against this Friday’s opposing team. It was the last game before we headed into playoffs, and we’d done so well this season that even if we lost this one, we were guaranteed a spot.

Which was a relief because Jet wasstillhoping for a scholarship. He was now on the back list for three different universities, just waiting to hear from coaches about whether or not they would have a place for him.Noneof which were to any of Tucker’s schools.

Being such the patient person I was, I was trying not to get too pissed at Coach Riojas. He’d pumped Jet up so much about going for a college scholarship, swearing he had someconnections to reach out to with teams, and while there’d been scouts and recruiters at the games, it felt like we were getting nowhere.

I had to stay positive, though. For Jet. Because if I was being honest…I doubted he’d care much about going to college next year if it didn’t involve him being on a football team. Which for me meant this scholarship thing was everything.

I didn’t even care too much aboutmegetting one. Like Tucker said, my education was basically going to be covered, but Jet had so much potential. I wantedeverythingfor him.

Wondering what was taking Izzy so long to text back, I looked down at the field. They’d just lined up for another play, and I watched as the ball was hiked to Jet. He pulled back, ready to make a pass, when suddenly number thirty-four came running from out of nowhere, slamming into Jet’s side just as he threw the ball. My heart jumped, sticking in my throat, and when Jet didn’t immediately start to move, I leapt up, rushing down the stands as a flare of panic struck my middle.

“Everyone move back!” Coach Riojas’ voice boomed over the field to the players that gathered. “Hernandez, on the bench!” I’d never heard him so livid.

I ran down the ramp, sprinting through the gate as Coach kneeled at Jet’s side. I could see he’d started moving, but he wasn’t getting up. No. No, no, no. I practically flew the rest of the way to the forty-yard line, falling to my knees at my man’s side.

“Jet.” My breath gushed out.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He grimaced as Coach slowly moved his arm away from where he clutched it to his chest. “My wrist.” He looked at the coach next.

“I can see.” Coach Riojas frowned. “Move your fingers for me?”

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