Page 54 of Your Secret to Keep

if not, you’re always welcome here

I’ve not been able to connect with Clayton since the first night when I met Lia at Oasis. It’s not very surprising; we typically hang out much more during the off-season. We text and try to stay connected, but a lot of messages lead to a dead end because we’re both on to the next thing. That’s life, I guess? I could text him back and let him know I’m on my way. The glimmer of plans fade quickly. I can’t do it today. I feel like everything is wrong—my body hurts and my brain is slow and hazy. Stringing words and thoughts with other people seems like an impossible fucking task.

Being alone is the only thing I can fathom. If my mom isn’t going to make it home, there’s no one else I want to see. I text him back and say my mom is coming over, the lie easily falling off my fingers. Once the message goes through, I turn my phone off. I can’t do it today.

I slowly climb the stairs to my bedroom, Rocky following behind. First, I pull the shades down and the blackout curtains over the window, removing all the light. When I crawl into bed, Rocky follows, curling up at my feet. He doesn’t care that it’s noon and neither do I. I want to do nothing. Feel nothing.

The quiet of the room pricks at my brain, fueling the anxiety and panic. Everything about this seems fucking wrong. I’ve never had to deal with injuries before; I thought after the ACL injury, I’d have some sort of points that could get used up before my next one. Seriously—I’ve been through this recently, I didn’t expect something else so soon.

An accident. A fluke. Nothing anyone planned. It wasn’t a dirty play.

I’m aware I’m feeling sorry for myself over an injury that shouldn’t take me out more than a few games. Some would say I’m lucky, but I don’t believe that for a fucking minute. I feel like I could crash out. Burnfrom the inside out. The flames are almost unmanageable—fueled by fear and doubt. I stare at the ceiling, my eyes adjusting to the dark as I let the feeling I’ve been running from catch up to me.

Its claws are sharp and smart, searching for the old wounds—the ones still pink and scarred. I feel them push into my skin, reach into my ribs, and bring a chill that makes my lungs hard to stretch. My breathing is shallow, but I don’t fight it. I’ve learned I’m no match for the claws. Better to try and coexist instead of pushing it out. Today, I’m simply not strong enough. Maybe I never have been?

When my hand cramps, a slight pinch from the stinger injury, I’m only reminded of how my body is betraying me. It used to be better than this. Do I not train hard enough? Is this what my future is going to be? The shadow of my knee injury is barely behind me and more ailments are piling on top. How much until my body simply combusts? Fucking explodes into particles and nothing. Like I never existed.

The blades from the ceiling fan are the only thing that keeps me feeling like I’m not floating away. They’re reliable. They have a purpose. The switch turns them on and they do what they’re meant to. It’s like I’m losing my switch on the court, the injuries like an electrical problem. My chest feels full of bricks, leaving barely any room for my lungs. The heaviness sits on my already tired muscles and it’s the last thing I can take. A tear spills and falls onto my pillowcase. I don’t wipe it away; lifting my arm feels impossible and I don’t need to fail at another single fucking thing.

My circle of people fills my head. Lia. Jalen. Zack. Riley. Clayton. My dad. I could call any of them and they’d try to help. The claws are smart, dangling the hope in front of me before pulling it just out of my reach. I know I won’t call anyone or let them know I need something. Depression isn’t something I can explain with words. Even if I thought I could, it’s as though the claws move to my throat and there are no words.

I use all my strength to grab a sleeping pill from my bedside table. It’s a leftover prescription from when I was constantly up late battling anxiety. It’s a cheap fix but it’s the only thing I can think to do. I swallow the pill, trying to lean into the heaviness of all of it like a blanket keeping me in place, and wait for the sleep to hit me.

After a solid seventeen hours of sleep, the claws aren’t as big as they were yesterday. I turn my phone on, bracing for messages and notifications. There’s an email from the restaurant I had ordered Thanksgiving dinner from, back when I thought it would be me and my mom. It should be here in a few hours.

I open my messages to see my most recent texts.

Lia

happy thanksgiving! hope you have the best time with your mom

Me

thanks. happy thanksgiving to you too

I should ask what her plans are, how she’ll spend today. But I don’t have it in me. The claws might be smaller, but it takes all the energy I have to keep them that way.

I send a quick email to the restaurant, asking them to leave the food at the door, and fall back into bed.

Chapter 33

Lia

“Wait,youalreadypreppedall this content?” Megan asks as she sits next to me, pointing at the to-do list with most things marked as completed.

I look from my laptop to her. “Yup. I’m going to finish getting content for a day in the life, because those views are insane.”

“I told you. People love it. You’re a breath of fresh air in a space which needs it.” She smiles while she pulls up her phone, opening my social media account—the one for the Jags—and shows me the most recent view total.

It blows my mind. I truly thought this would fizzle so fast; that people wouldn’t care if Brooks wasn’t in the picture. It was an idea that wouldn’t pan out and I’d go back to focusing on the main social channels. Well, joke’s on me. I’m the clown. I’m hitting influencer status and it’s not a thing I planned for.

“You have some PR waiting for you at the front.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t apply for anything like that. I’m sure it’s annoying—”

Megan starts to laugh before putting a hand on my arm. “Lia. Chill out. You think we’re bothered by you being so successful that companies want to send you free stuff? As long as you do your brand research and don’t turn the entire channel into an unboxing video, I could care less. Let good things happen.”

Let good things happen.

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