Maybe babysitting won’t be so bad.
Grabbing paper plates and plastic silverware, I turn to Violet. “So, should we eat dinner or make a fort first?”
“Hmm.” Violet’s eyes, that same striking shade of hazel as Cade’s, land on my couch. “Fort and then we eat dinnerinthe fort.”
“Gooooooooooooooal!”
Violet, along with everyone in the crowd, spins in wild circles, mimicking Holly’s celebratory tornado after her second goal of the night. Holly’s on fire tonight, and I thankMonsters, Inc.for her tears.
“They’re so cool,” Violet whispers, watching the dynamic duo, Victoria and Holly, rush down the field.
My chest swells with pride. “The coolest.”
I’ll always miss playing soccer, but the pain is sharper at times like this. Being a defender was the most fun. I was in charge of protecting my goalie and slowing my opponents’ attacks. I miss the lactic acid that burned in my thighs after sprinting across the field. I miss the overwhelming satisfaction that flooded me when I successfully stopped the ball with a slide tackle. More than anything, I miss the camaraderie that soccer brought. From my random roommate assignment with Mallory freshman year to welcoming Adri and Jo into the mix.
Sometimes you have to give up things you love to succeed.
“And you work with them every day?” Violet asks in disbelief.
“Sure do. Most of the time, I’m in the office, but my favorite days are when I get to watch my clients play their sport.”
My forehead aches as Victoria heads a ball down the field. Holly’s ponytail whips behind her as she darts across the bright green grass. They’re so playful and goofy off the field, yet so precise and composed when they play. It’s freaky.
“For my summer homework, I have to decide what I want to be when I grow up, and I want to be like you. An agent.” Violet shoves a handful of Skittles into her mouth and refocuses on my phone in her lap that’s streaming the Pilots game. “You get to watch games and eat candy and hang out with athletes! Plus, C.C. says you’re the best agent. I hope he stays with the Pilots forever. I didn’t like when he left. He never got to come home, and he was always sad when we talked.”
“He told you he was sad?” I ask, trying not to sound too nosy.
“No, but I could tell. Sister powers. But he’s not sad anymore. I know that for sure. His smiles look different now.” Then Violet lets out a shriek so piercing it could be the referee’s whistle. “C.C. got hit!”
I almost laugh. It wouldn’t be the first time a bird swooped down onto the field and attacked a player. “Did the pigeons come after him today?”
“No! A ball! He was batting and got hit by the ball!”
Before I realize it, I snatch the phone away. My arm instinctively wraps around Violet’s trembling shoulders as I pull her close and use my free hand to rewind the game thirty seconds. I know exactly what’s about to happen, but that doesn’t stop the sob from spilling out of me.
Cade took a ball to the head at ninety-six miles per hour.
He’s still sprawled on the ground, but the sickening crack of ball to helmet has etched itself permanently in my brain. It’s even louder than the static in my ears. One second he was upright. The next, his helmet was in the air as he fell into a crumpled heap in the batter’s box.
Standing, I hold my hand out to Violet. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Blink once if you’reokay and twice if you’re in pain.”
I bat my eyes twice at Rio, who’s looming over me like a guardian angel. The distant roar of the crowd swells and dips, disconnected from the thick tension in the training room. I’m not sure how I got here, and by the look on his face, I won’t be leaving anytime soon.
Isla’s hands are unsteady as she presses an icepack into my palm. “How are you feeling?”
My fingers go instinctively to the spot where the ball slammed into my helmet, right above my temple. A hot, angry bruise is already blooming beneath my skin. “Like shit.”
Nervous energy clings to Rio despite the calm expression he wears. “That’s to be expected, kid. You took a fastball to the head.”
With one final sweep of the penlight across my eyes, Isla slides it into her pocket. “Tracking is good. Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Having double vision?”
“None,” I say, thankful it’s the truth. “But my head is killing me.”
“As the adrenaline wears off, it may get worse.” She squints at me for a moment before the tension eases from between her brows. “Well, the good news is there are no signs of a concussion. Your pupils are normal,and the baseline is good, so no glaring red flags at this moment. You got very lucky, Cade.”
