Page 34 of Leave Me Broken

After peppering, we move onto spiking drills. Luca tosses the ball and I bump it for Shannon to set to the rest of the girls. It’s going great until Alyssa’s turn. She spikes it just fine but as she’s circling back to the line, she “trips” and slams into the side of me just like Thursday at practice. Only this time, I feel a popping followed by excruciating pain when we land on the floor, her on top of my knee.

“Oops, sorry.” Alyssa leaps to her feet, not affected at all. She flips her blonde ponytail over her shoulder and prances back in line behind the rest of the girls.

I catch Janelle’s wide eyes while I try and not freak out about the pain radiating from my knee. She steps toward me, but I shake my head, subtly telling her to stay put. My leg is bent the wrong way but it’s not bad enough to worry me too much. The pain is mind-blowing, but I can’t let my coaches see. If they think I hurt my knee, I won’t be able to play today and I have to play today. Especially Ash, he is wildly strict about caring for your joints.

I sit up on my ass, trying not to look at my leg but it’s impossible. The shooting-pain is still there and it’s already swelling. Dammit. I shoot a murderous glare at Alyssa and for once, she doesn’t return it. Worry is just barely marring her face but it’s there. That pisses me off enough I clumsily climb to my feet, trying not to use my left leg but also keep it subtle.

A warm hand engulfs my arm, lifting slightly so it relieves weight from my left side. I don’t meet his eyes.

“How bad is it?”

My leg isn’t the only thing burning now, my eyes flood but I don’t let him see that either.

“Payson,” he demands. “Can you put weight on it? Did you tear your ACL?”

His questions aren’t helping me forget about the injury. Seeing my leg swell so much so soon makes me want to throw up. If I tore my ACL—that’s it. That’s the season. I refuse to lose my season because of Alyssa fucking Burton.

I roll my shoulders and step on my leg, giving it my full weight. It hurts, holy fuck, it hurts but it’s bearable. The question is, can I play on it? If I tore my ACL, I know I won’t be able to shuffle side to side, dive, or crouch. I’m a Libero and all those things are very important.

The gym has gone silent; all eyes on me.

“Talk to me, Pay.”

“I can play, I just . . .”

Coach removes his hand. I lied when I thought my complete weight was resting on my leg; without him holding me, my complete body weight settles and I wobble, a lot, but I don’t fall. I don’t fall. Okay, that’s good.

“Take a step, Payson.” His voice is hard, but also full of worry. I wish it wasn’t. If he’s worried, it means . . . I take a step and my knee buckles, and I drop. I’m not able to stop the scream erupting from my lips this time. It only lasts a quick second, but it is enough for Coach to grab me under my shoulders and lift me. Janelle is on my other side and between her and Coach, they don’t allow me to place any pressure on either leg. He is holding my leg so carefully I want to scream and tell him to stop treating me like a baby. They help me off the court and carry me to the medic waiting patiently on the sidelines.

For the first time in a long time, I close my eyes and pray.

14

Ash

“It’s not torn, yet,” The doctor says while eyeing Payson, then me.

I let out a relieved breath. The last thing I want for Payson is to be stuck wearing a knee brace for the rest of her life whenever she wants to move more than walking. If we both have fucked up knees, who is meant to crawl on the floor with our kids? I shake the thought away and look to Payson to see how she is taking the news.

Ever since I pulled her from the tournament, she has held the same emotionless expression. She refused to come to the doctors until after the tournament, as much as the medic at the tournament said she should. She wasn’t about to leave her team. I made her captain for a reason but the boyfriend in me hated that she struggled to get anywhere all day; especially when she refused anyone’s help—when she refused my help. The tears that never fell but stayed hanging in plain sight when she wasn’t able to join her team on the court was like a bloody arrow through my chest.

Hearing her ask when she can play again and the sinking of her shoulders when the doctor looks to me instead of answering might be worse.

“Pay—”

“Doctor,” she urges. “When can I play?”

I bite the inside of my lip and fist my hands.

“I would suggest this season be ove—”

“That’s not an option,” Payson snaps. “So, what is my option? How can I play?”

He flips between the x-rays and MRI they did. I’m not sure what he is looking for but he spends an eternity looking. He purses his thin lips. “I suppose if you wear a knee brace it should hold your leg stable enough—”

“How do I get one?” She looks at me for the first time.

I clear my throat. “Mine was custom made. It took weeks to get.”

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