Page 24 of The Tomboy and the Captain

“Only if you promise to spill it,” she says. I’ve never told my friend this, but in terms of bedside manner, I’m not so sure she has the gentle touch. I guess it’s good she likes the emergency room side of things because sometimes she’s downright scary. And right now, blazing eyes ready to break me with FBI-type interrogation skills, she’s at the height of frightening.

“I promise. Now please, Ivy. Drive.”

She slips back in her seat and cranks her engine, buckling up as she pulls us out of the driveway and even squeals her tires a little as she shifts out of reverse and heads down the street. My stomach twists on itself and I flatten my forehead on the passenger window so I can look out for Cutter in the mirror.

“Did you need to make a scene?” I mutter.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not the one who slept with Cutter McCreary and regrets it,” she fires back.

I sit upright, satisfied we have enough of a head start.

“I didn’t sleep with him. We just . . . fooled around a little. It’s been a rough few days, and he let me take some shots on the ice, and?—”

“I’m sorry, but he took you down on the ice?” Ivy’s looking at me and not at the road. I push my finger into the side of her chin and force her head to turn.

“Yeah. You’ve been working and school, but basically, my senior year on the team is falling to pieces. I’m still not fully cleared and Chelsea was given my number.”

“Oh shit!” Ivy isn’t the world’s biggest sports fan, though she does like athletes. She knows enough through our relationship, though, to get how important this year is to me and how painful it is for my backup to steal my spot.

“Yeah. See? Now you see why I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. And Cutter caught me when I was a little, well, emotional. And you know how much I hate it when people see me like that. And he offered to let me hit things, and how could I turn that down? So yeah, we were on the ice, and then there was a bet that I couldn’t make a shot and if I missed he got to kiss me, and well?—”

“Laney Price you have to stop making bets!” She laughs out her words, but she’s being very serious. And I agree. If I keep this up, I’m going to be buried in trouble.

“So you kissed,” she says.

I wiggle my head and she leans forward, eyes dancing from the roadway to me and then back again.

“Laney?”

“I mean, I maybe had an orgasm. And I may have made him?—"

“Girl! Did you see it? What’s he like down there? Are the rumors true?” She’s only half joking now. I look away and let out a breathy, embarrassed laugh.

“The rumors don’t do it justice, okay? I mean, I only got a quick glance, but yeah. He’s proportional.” I shrug and my friend shrieks out a hysterical laugh.

We get to campus before my friend has a chance to really dissect things with me, something that I know is coming. I’m not really ready to dissect them myself yet, though, so the longer I can postpone tag-teaming the topic with Ivy the better.

I practically leap from her truck when she reaches the west end of campus. Snagging my bag from the floor and leaving her pack in my wake. I jog toward the gym, relieved to be the first person to duck into the makeshift locker room that doubles as the health studies classroom and first-year physical therapy lab. At least we benefit from the stretching tables parked in the back.

I change into my court shoes and slip on my compression sleeves before adding KT tape to my shoulder. I doubt it does anything for me at this point, but it’s a mental comfort to have it there, so I’ll die in this tape if it keeps me swinging hard. I expect the gym to be empty, maybe even dark, but Coach Kane must have been running away from a bad decision today too. She’s trying to clip one of the antennas up as the door squeals to announce my entry.

“Ah, good. Height. Laney, give me a hand,” she says.

I drop my bag and jog over to her, taking the top clip in my hand and fixing it to the top of the net.

“I have good news,” she says as I give the net a shake to make sure I’ve got things fastened. My gaze darts to hers and my breath pauses.

“Yes, you guessed it. You’re cleared. We’re still starting Chelsea this week, but work in at middle and outside today and the rest of the week. We’ll get you going. I don’t want the process to break you, though, okay?”

I nod, holding back the argument I’m dying to make that I’m not going to break and that I’ve been working harder than Chelsea and am conditioned and ready. That’s not how things work at this level, and if I’m going to move on even higher, I better respect the ego. We all have one in sports—players and coaches. And Coach Kane was an Olympic setter so her ego is definitely not grounded on earth.

“Hey, after practice today, though. I need you to go to the athletic director’s office. He wants to get your media guide pieces going, and they’re going to get an article out in the program for the first week of games. Something basic, but you can talk about your injury and adversity and coming back stronger. You know the drill.”

I nod again. I know the dance well. My injury is a great marketing story. Even if I didn’t make the full return I’m planning to, the team and Tiff University benefit from my mere presence. Donors love a good comeback story.

Wasting no time, I head right into my stretching and warmups, throwing the ball against the wall so I don’t have to wait for a partner. I’m ahead of the rest of my team, so while they’re all playing catchup, I get to take some free swings from coach at the net. I don’t love that she wants me to try out middle, but I’m going to punish the ball no matter where she tells me to hit it from. After a few awkward swings to start, I get the hang of the position—which I played in high school—and start pounding the ball in all corners of the court. At one point, I hit one downwith enough force that it bounces back up to the rafters and brushes a chunk of dust from the ceiling.

“That’s my girl!” Coach holds up a hand and I slap it before ducking under the net to shag the balls I just sprayed around the gym. My gaze hits Chelsea’s, and her eyes dim with the threat that I put there. It fuels me for the rest of practice.

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