Page 65 of Pay for Your Lies

“Let me see.” I say, and the worry that I’d been trying to conceal rips through my voice.

“I tripped over one of the steps,” She says with a grimace as she releases her ankle, “I was distracted.”

I gingerly take hold of her foot, making sure not to move it in the process. Grabbing the end of one of the laces, I pull it slowly and undo the knot.

I cup the back of her ankle and gently remove the shoe before working her ankle left and then right to see how much she’s able to move it.

“How’s the pain?” I ask, looking back at her. She winces as I push it a little too far out of range.

“It’s okay. I’m more annoyed it happened than anything.”

“I think it’s a sprained ankle, you should be fine in a couple of days. Just ice and elevate it.”

“Are you a doctor?” She asks grumpily.

I chuckle at her tone. “No, but I’ve had enough of these injuries to know. Now come on.” I say, leaning down to wrap my arms around her.

“What are you– Mackley, no!”

“Too late.” I tell her once she’s in my arms and we’re going down the stairs.

“Put me down.”

“No.”

“Mackley.” She warns.

“Silver.” I reply, my tone teasing.

She tries wriggling in my arms to free herself. I strengthen my hold on her, forcing her tighter against my chest and she freezes.

Her chin rubs against my pecs as she looks up at me. I’m carrying her with ease across the pitch and towards the parking lot.

She’s quiet for a second and I think she’s accepted her situation.

“I can walk.” She tells me, deciding on another tactic.

“No you can’t.”

“I can.”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“You like my stubbornness.” Surprised at her boldness, I look down at her and we share a small, covert smile. “Seriously though, I can walk.”

“Do you want to be able to play Friday?” I ask, bluntly.

RCA’s next football match is in a couple of days and if she doesn’t take care of her ankle, she’ll be benched.

As a fierce competitor, that’s likely her worst nightmare. And that’s without taking into account the fact that we’ve been training rigorously together for weeks now and she’s got a chance to show off her progress.

That shuts her up.

“Fine.” She says, petulantly. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“Noted.” I say, drolly.

She looks up at me, her gaze tracing the lines of my Adam’s apple, raking over the smooth angles of my jaw and coming to rest on my eyes.

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