Page 51 of Broken

Me: You ready to tell someone?

Those three little dots lingered on the screen for several minutes before she finally replied.

Izzy: No.

I forced a deep, controlled breath, trying not to let my rampant anger seep over to her.

Me: Then I have no choice.

I stuck my phone in my pocket, ignoring her next few texts. “She’s mad?” Jet surmised, his eyes studying the muscle cars and sports cars around us, no doubt trying to figure out who would be his competitor. What potential advantages and weaknesses they might have.

“No, not yet. But I know she’s going to be. I can’t let this drop.”

“I know.”

“Thanos! Line up next!” Monty’s voice boomed out over the race. “Hernandez! You, too!”

My brow shot up to match Jet’s.

“Well, this’ll be interesting.” I stepped away as he hopped in his car, pulling up to the line for the next race. Classic red next to sleek, new, and black, the two Mustangs waited, engines gunning. It wasn’t long before one of the girls walked up, holding up the white cloth that would signal the start of the race as soon as she let it drop. I stood, arms crossed at the edge of the crowd as I watched my best friend face off with my worst enemy.

The cloth fell to the ground, and the Mustangs took off, Zane taking the easy lead. It was Jet’s skill with the turns that might give him a chance. Zane slid, dirt flying as he rounded the next corner, and Jet gained ground, never quite catching up. He gunned it at the end, flying over the finish line just a second after Zane.

I cringed slightly for my best friend, my footsteps already moving where I needed them to go.Mywaiting was up.

Zane got out, throwing his arms in the air, and I reached out, yanking his shoulder so he turned around. “Don’t ever fuckingtouch her again,” I warned, my voice deep with the threat. I slammed my fist into his face. He swayed and grabbed the door before sinking to his knees, falling face first to the ground.

I shook out my fist and strode over to Jet’s car, climbing in.

“Let’s go.”

Chapter 15

ISABEL

I was still pretty livid with Tucker after hearing what happened. Not that I should be surprised. I’d asked him not to, and he’d basically flat out told me he was doing it, anyway. I’d understood him punching out Ryder–what he and Micah had done was so extreme–but I really hated fighting. So much was riding on his future, and it just wasn’t the answer. Not to mention I wasn’t sure how Zane would retaliate.

And something told me he would.

Or maybe I was just tired of the drama.

Whichever it was, it didn’t change my frustration. Basketball season was here, and my brilliant boyfriend had bruised the hell out of his knuckles just a week before practices started.

I watched him down on the court, taking my dutiful place in the bleachers. I’d been feeling off again today, and Leo hadpromised to cover my tutoring girls for me, giving me a chance to watch Tucker for once.

He and the rest of the team were running drills, while Mateo had gotten reamed out by Coach Larson more than once. But each time, Tucker kept pulling his friend under his wing. He was the definite leader of the team. Strong, confident. His moves clear. Fluid, like he was born to perform on that court.

Tucker looked up at me, and I sent him a proud smile, truly amazed that somehow, I got to call him mine. Even if he did frustrate me sometimes. The drama had died down at school some, thankfully, and I would give it to Tucker that Zane seemed to have backed off. At least for now. Which was a relief for my stress levels.

When the team took a break for water, I slid my phone out of my bag, running my thumb along the screen, debating. I’d been feeling off for so long now. Part of me wanted to ask Mom to take me to the doctor, while the other part of me was terrified, memories of what happened to Daddy and all the signs we’d missed plaguing my thoughts. Nausea twisted my stomach in one lone swoop, a sign of my stress, I was sure. I’d had it all the time back when Daddy was sick. It made sense to have it now.

Too chicken to open Google and type in my symptoms, I messaged Annie instead, asking her how Jet’s practice was going.

It was funny. We were both here at school after hours, yet we were so far apart. I wished she could be here with me.

Annie: Practice is good. What’s up?

Me: Just watching Tucker’s practice.

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