Page 17 of Second Shot

“No. Not anymore.” He stopped playing a couple of years ago. Knee injury. But I know he was secretly relieved. He’d always hated the pressure our dad put onhim.

I’m no Kane Madden, Sam always said, whenever anyone asked him if he played. He said it with a casual smile. But we both knew it was a way to hide the hurt that our father loved the man more than his ownkids.

“Too bad. He’s cute,” Amber says, stillgiggling.

I give an annoyed grunt, hearing her hidden meaning. He wasn’t worth hertime.

“Do I look okay?” Amber asks, pulling her t-shirt lower to expose more cleavage. Even for a study session, she looks like she’s ready to go clubbing. And I’m starting to wonder if her recent insistence that we study here rather than the university library or her dorm wasn’t for some ulterior motive. That motive being KaneMadden.

It’s no secret that my brother and Kane are friends, or that they like to party together. There are pictures all over social media to prove it. Sam worships the ground Kane walks on, just like myfather.

I get my father’s obsession. Kane is talented. Probably one of the best defenders in the league. But he’s arrogant. Cocky. And I have every intention of being the one Jacobs not to fall for hischarms.

But secretly I already know it’s too late forthat.

A quick peek in the mirror, and I groan inwardly. With my hair tied on top of my head in a messy bun, and oversized, dark-framed glasses that keep falling down my nose, I don’t need to worry about catching Kane’s attention. At least, not any positiveattention.

Amber is more his type; blonde, busty, with a sexual confidence that I could never pulloff.

“Well?” Eyebrows raised, she waits for myanswer.

Ignoring the pinch of jealousy that makes my back teeth clench, I answer, “You lookbeautiful.”

“I know, right?” She laughs, blue eyes a little too bright, and I have a feeling that if given a chance, she won’t be leaving here alonetonight.

Not that I care. She can do whatever she wants, with whoever shewants.

Just not with Kane, my stupid heartprotests.

“Come on,” I mutter, leading her downstairs to the large rec room in thebasement.

The TV is blasting a baseball game and music blares from a stereo. Kane and Sam are spread out on the oversized leather couches. They don’t see us. I’m about to shout out for them to turn down the volume, until I see what Sam’sdoing.

With a rolled dollar bill in his hand, he leans over the coffee table and snorts one of the four lines of white powder in front ofhim.

“Oh my God,” Amber whispers behind me. “Isthat…”

Cocaine.

I’ve never seen the stuff, other than in movies, but there’s no denying what itis.

Sam closes his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nostril, then hissing out a breath. When he opens his eyes, they’re glossy, his pupils so big they look like empty blackholes.

“That’s good stuff, bro,” Sam says, reaching out to hand Kane the rolledbill.

Kane leans forward as if to take it from him, but when he does, he must catch my reflection in the TV, because his head jerksaround.

“Shit,” Kanehisses.

Sam glances over at me, and he smiles.He fucking smiles. “Hey, dork. Who’s yourfriend?”

I’m pretty sure my brain has stopped working because I can’t move, can’t think. All I see are the drugs spread out in front of him like a narcoticsmorgasbord.

“What the effing hell,Sam.”

“What?” He leans back on the couch, his gaze roaming down Amber’s body, and a lazy grin stretching hisface.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Words finally spill from my lips. “You’re doing drugsnow?”

---