I thump the steering wheel as a sharp pain wrenches at my gut.It will kill me. But she’ll get over it, move on, and become someone important in the Hendricks dynasty. I easily imagine the vision of her alongside her brothers.
Who will be the man on her arm?Another wave of sadness smashes into me like a tidal wave.
When I picture it, the final piece of my fucking heart breaks for the last time.
The deal is done.
I have to live with it.
And learn to live without her.
2
BRANDON
Two months later…
I stare at the email,and for a brief moment, I consider deleting it.
She hates me.
That thought enters my head and resembles a mantra, sounding over and over.
Charlotte despises me and for good reason.
Fuck, I hate myself too.
I’m a coward, an idiot, and a huge disappointment.
I would call, but she’s bound to hang up because I should have been there when things worsened, and I was aware of the Chicago Stingers’ interest in me. Not now, months later, when I’m a hopeless mess. Valentine’s Day came and went. Her birthday the following week. It’s why I have been thinking about her every minute for the pastthree days and the reason to reach out and pour my heart out in a letter, hoping she understands why I had to leave.
Pushing my chair away from the desk, I head to the window and look out over the city of Chicago. A blanket of snow covers the building tops and parked cars. While the team welcomed me for my first Christmas in Chicago, it was the loneliest I’d felt in my life.
In January, I survived my first blizzard. The heating in my apartment has been switched to high ever since I arrived as I have never experienced weather like this, especially not where I’m from in Australia.
I check the weather app on my cell because fuck, I need to head out soon for a late afternoon training session. The app predicts it will dry out in a few hours, but more snow is forecasted to fall overnight. Out of habit, I check Los Angeles—a mild sixty-five degrees. I lived in California from the time I arrived in the US for a college basketball scholarship and remained in LA after being drafted by the LA Sharks. Even though I had bundled up to go outdoors, I couldn’t feel my fingers and toes. Here, it’s like ice smacking you in the face, and if you go out without a beanie, your ears would drop off.
But it’s no different to my frozen heart.
Frozen in time from the day I decided the best thing for Charlotte was to leave before she discovered I was nothing more than a disappointment. Every day, I mull over my actions, wishing I didn’t run because if I stayed and faced the consequences, there was the slightest chance wemightstill be together. I should have stayed by her side, made sure her brother—my best friend—knew we hadn’t betrayed him. But his injury changed everything. He nearly lost his chance to play ball, and I couldn’t shake the blame. His family—my American family—would never have forgiven me.
A notification buzzes on my phone—a reminder the LA Sharks are to play San Diego. I switch on the television and remain standing while the announcers discuss both teams’ statistics. Here in Chicago, my wings are spread, and I’m playing my own game, winning most games and being the highest scorer of the day. In LA, Byron was the brightest light, and while we combined well on the court, my game was more about making him look good and, by doing that, getting the win.
“The LA Sharks don’t have what it takes to get the win tonight. Without their dynamic duo, their guards are not up to the pay grade.”
I moan at the announcers. “It’s because they don’t receive the pay grade, you dickhead.”
“Inside news tells us that Byron Hendricks won’t be back for the remainder of the season, and if he did return, it wouldn’t be enough to get this team to the playoffs. Especially without Brandon Johns. While he averaged fifteen points a game, his assists to Byron could have doubled his points. BJ was the rainmaker for the team.”
I no longer play for the LA Sharks, but they were like family, and I’m not a robot able to shut off the loyalty I still feel when anyone trolls them.
But it’s not why I’m watching the pregame show.
There is a moment when the camera flashes onto the governor of the team, Charlotte’s father and brother, Franklin, and I know she’ll be sitting beside them, invested in the players and the game.
I wait.
I hold my breath when the camera flashes to the tunnel, and Byron enters the arena on crutches. Every moment that led me here flashes before me. I’m pulled out of the dark thoughts when the camera narrows in on the Hendricks family in the VIP seats. Charlotte, in particular. She isclapping in time to the music in the arena. I stare at her beautiful face with blue eyes that remind me of summer skies. The corners of her lips quirk into a light smile, not the radiant one that lit up a room. While she lives and breathes basketball as though it’s a constant source of happiness, her face tells me she is anything but. She is physically present, and I know I’m to blame for stealing her passion. I know because the day I left, a piece of me died, and I guess she felt it too.
