It was Indy’s foot. Of course it was.
Jasmine saw red, something inside of her snapping, as blood roared in her ears.
“Really?” she barked, getting right up into Indy’s face and looking her dead in the eye, rage fueling every word. “You didn’t take enough from me this week, you need to finish the job?”
“It was an accident, I’m—” Indy began, taking a step back.
Jasmine cut off the fake-ass apology. “This was supposed to be my year. And then you came out of nowhere and stole it.”
“That’s not—” Indy tried again.
“Come on, Jasmine,” Lara said, trying to step between the two.
“Stay the hell out of this, you little hypocrite,” she snapped, and then whirled to Indiana again. “And don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You waltzed in here like you owned the damn place. You’ve been here two seconds. I’ve been training my whole life, and in one week, you took it all from me.”
People were wandering over to the court—the guys’ group from the adjacent court; Jack Harrison, who’d been working with them; and dozens of others drawn by Jasmine’s raised voice—but the rage boiling through her veins couldn’t be cooled, not even by embarrassment. She had to get away before she did something really stupid, like burst into tears in front of everyone. She turned and started to run off the court, but her retreat was interrupted.
“No,” Indy yelled at her back.
“No?” Jasmine repeated, wheeling around so fast herponytail whipped Indy in the face. “What the hell do you mean,no?”
Indy stalked forward, coming straight at her, her hands clenched into fists. “No, you’re not going to dump all your shit on me and then run away. I beat you. It’s that simple. I beat you. You want to blame someone? Take a look in the mirror. Maybe next time you won’t fold under the pressure.”
With that parting shot, she spun away. Her long blond braid, a clear attempt to copy Penny Harrison, whipped out behind her as she did and smacked Jasmine straight across the face.
The sting of it combined with theexactwords Hodges used in the article spilling from the lips of her biggest rival was too much for her.
“You don’t know shit about me,” Jasmine screeched, and she launched herself forward, grabbing that fucking braid and yanking hard.
Indy wheeled around in time for Jasmine’s free hand to strike, open palm to the side of her face.
She lurched backward, her hair slipping from Jasmine’s grip, and clutched her cheek, thrown off-balance from the blow. But Jasmine, ready to spring forward and tackle the bitch, wasn’t done. Her forward momentum stopped, however, as an arm snaked around her waist and lifted her up and away.
“Easy there.” Jack Harrison’s voice rumbled through his chest and into her back. She struggled against him for a moment, but his grip was like iron. He took her weight easily enough and carried her off the court. She thought about kicking him in the shins, but once they were outsidethe gate, he let her down. She pushed her way out of his arms and whirled around to run away but was suddenly face-to-face with Coach D’Amato.
Jasmine felt herself deflate, the reality of what happened, what she’d just done, sinking in. She’d found a new rock bottom, maybe one there was no coming back from, and it was all her own fault.
INDY SLUMPED IN THE CHAIR ACROSS FROM DOM’S DESK ANDpropped her elbow on the armrest. Her cheek was still stinging, and she winced as she leaned against an ice pack. Jasmine sat rigid in her seat, staring out of the floor-to-ceiling windows in Dom’s office, looking over the grounds and the beach in the distance. Indy’s day had started off great—a really tough training session with Coach D’Amato where she pushed herself through agility workouts that a couple of weeks ago would’ve been impossible for her.
Then Jasmine showed up.
If Indy’s face didn’t hurt so damn much, she would chuck the ice pack at her and finish off the fight Jack had interrupted. She had been clutching her face, still in shock, when she saw the eldest Harrison emerge from the crowd that gathered, spring over the fence, and pull Jasmine away from her. She almost wished he hadn’t gotten there in time. Then herface would still hurt, but she would at least have gotten in a shot or two.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs drew her attention and she lifted her head gingerly as Dom stomped into his office, glaring at them. Indy glared right back. Jasmine could spin the story however she wanted. Indy knew it wasn’t her fault.
“As if this day weren’t already a shit show, now I have to deal with the two of you,” Dom snapped as he moved in front of them. “Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”
“Yeah, I’d really like to know why I’m sitting here,” Indy fired back. “I was minding my own business at practice when she storms up, freaks out, and then, when I defended myself, she attacked me.”
“I was told exactly what happened, Indiana,” Dom said, frowning down at her, “including what you said.”
Jasmine made a soft noise in the back of her throat, but it was enough to draw Dom’s attention. “As I said, I knowexactlywhat happened. Violence is unacceptable, Jasmine. You’re done training for the rest of the day.”
“What? You can’t.”
“I can,” Dom said.
Indy rolled her eyes. Some punishment. The day off after she already took two to lick her wounds. What a fucking slap on the wrist. She’d bet every dime she had that if the roles were reversed, that punishment would be the tip of the iceberg. No wonder Jasmine couldn’t handle losing—consequences were a totally foreign concept.
