Page 155 of Scoring the Player
She leans forward, resting her palm on my arm. “Start from the beginning.”
My mouth opens, but the words are choked.
“It’s okay,” she replies as my eyes well up. “Go slow.” She grabs some tissues for me. “Tell me.”
CHAPTER 36
ARNAZ
“Winter”
In me, an unceasing winter.
Heat bled out, blood blistered.
Ihit rewind, then play.
He hangs his head as he walks toward the bench. The crowd is cheering him, but it’s like he can’t hear them.
I rewind the video again, then hit pause.
Clicking back over to the tab from his game two weeks ago, I drag it next to the one of last night’s game.
I hit play on them both.
There!
I freeze both screens.
Shoulders hunched, bags under his eyes, he sinks into the chair, and unlike everyone on the bench whose head is turned toward the game, his stays facing straight ahead.
Shit.
I know what happens next, yet my throat still grows a lump when I hit rewind and watch it again.
I know this can’t be about me.
So, who or what did this?
Ow.I pull my thumb away from my teeth and watch a line of blood form. I switch to my other thumb.
Who hurt him?
Climbing out of bed and grabbing my phone, I pace the room and call the only person I know who might have answers.
“Arnaz, what’s wrong?”
“Cat, is he okay?”
“Who?”
“Salem. Who else?”
“Jones?” she asks, her voice more alert. I hear a thud. “Where are my glasses?”
Lys’s voice filters through, asking, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Something happened to Jones,” she tells her. “Cade, are you there? What happened?”
