Page 9 of Slash & Burn

In fact, I wanted to look so good that people forgot about the whole thing and never mentioned it again. Show up strong, and lead, so people would stop calling me a ‘hero’ and just let me play.

The more people called me that, and refused to let me forget what had happened that morning in Miami, the more I was haunted by it. The desperate sounds of his cries. The deafening silence when he pulled me under. The thoughts that filled in my head when I feared they were going to be my last. And what I did to make sure they weren’t.

I’d almost died that morning.

But no one knew that part.

When Julian Huller had decided to take a last-minute swim in the waters off Miami beach, he didn’t consider that he’d never been in the ocean before. When he got caught in a rip tide he had no idea what to do. But I did.

I’d been raised swimming in the frigid waters off the coast of Maine. Rip tides were common, and how to get out of them alive had been ingrained in me since my parents had bought our Peak’s house and my mother had insisted we all take a water safety course.

When I heard Julian call for help I hadn’t stopped to think about anything.

Not how far out he was. Or how tired I already was from my workout. Not that I didn’t have a floatation device, or that I hadn’t been trained in water rescues.

All I knew was that I could swim, and he couldn’t.

But when I got to him, his panic took over. He didn’t mean to do it. But he nearly drowned me as he fought to stay above the water. His terror blinded him and he acted on an instinct I could understand, even if my own actions had been driven by the opposite. Self-preservation versus self-sacrifice.

After waking up for months covered in sweat and sore from tensing all night as I relived some warped version of that morning, I was starting to wonder if I’d ever get past it. Even if I spent all summer training to get my body strong enough to play, nothing had helped clear my mind. And that was what I needed more than anything.

Because all I wanted was to put it behind me.

The familiarity of the aisles at the local supermarket used to bring me a sense of nostalgia and comfort. But after another shitty workout, I walked them with my hood up, hoping to escape the store without being noticed. My shoulder was screaming at me from the exercises my PT had sent, and the harder I wanted to push, the more I paid for it. Everyone said it was a normal part of recovery. But all I saw was the widening gap between me and being able to play again like I used to.

I was standing in front of the beer coolers, a six pack of some local IPA in my hand, when I heard the squeaking wheels of a shopping cart stop behind me.

“Is that a league endorsed beverage? Or are you not obligated to front partnerships in the off-season?”

I turned to find Joey Jordan standing behind me, his arms crossed and his brows raised before he gave me a cocky grin.

“I only have to drink that shit for commercials,” I replied, setting the beers in my own cart and reaching to give my friend a quick handshake and back slap. His smile triggered my own, the friendly face a surprise I suddenly welcomed.

He pulled back, shaking his head. “Pretty sure some uppity advertising exec wouldn’t like hearing you call it ‘shit.’”

“Probably not, but I’m off the clock and there aren’t any cameras around.” I gave a quick scan of the aisle, as if I was looking for some, when my eyes landed on the woman coming up behind Joey. I shoved him aside and wrapped her tiny frame in my arms, careful of her slightly rounded belly. “LeAnn, you look gorgeous.”

Joey shoved me out of the way as soon as I’d let his wife go. “Hands to yourself, Holloway.”

The instant he hit me with his warning my pulse spiked, and I remembered the other Jordan family member I’d run into that week.

“I didn’t know your sister was a librarian in town.”

Joey’s brow lowered, the humor dropping from his face. “How’d you find out then?”

“I’m working with her on this summer reading program for the team. She’s…” I hesitated, seeing Joey’s expression darken further as he waited for me to finish. I knew better than to say she was hotter than I remember. Or sweeter. Or all grown up. So, I went with, “She’s so different.”

His expression didn’t lighten even as he moved to let LeAnn pass, adding some rice cakes to their cart that Joey glanced at with disapproval.

“Different how?”

A lighthearted chuckle came from his wife as she poked him in the ribs. “Don’t glare at him like that, Joey. You’ll get stuck that way.”

I laughed with her, but Joey only squared his shoulders. “Different how?”

A couple of kids snuck past us, and I ducked my head to avoid them, grateful when they didn’t seem to notice me.

“She’s just older, I guess.” Sounding like an idiot was better than saying what I really thought. Joey and I had been friends all through high school and he knew way too much about me for me to think he’d be even remotely okay with my honest impression of his baby sister.

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