Planting his feet firmly, Kieran shot into the air, desperate to block a quick set from the Sharks. His timing was off, and the ball smacked hard on the outer side of his arm before sailing out of bounds.
Another point to the Sharks.
“McCullough,” one of their own middle blockers, a long-time player named David Lu, shouted. “Get your head in the fucking game, man, they telegraphed that entire play!”
“Sorry.” Kieran’s heart wasn’t in the apology. Lu’s sweat-soaked dark hair stuck out wildly as he pushed it away from his face, his cheeks red from both exertion and annoyance.
“Guys.” Atticus butted in between them, pushing Lu back with a firm hand on his chest and a low, “Walk it off,” before he turned back to Kieran.
“What’s wrong, Cap?”
Atticus was grinning at him, and sure, maybe it was forced, but that smile always had been infectious. Kieran felt lighter justseeing it. “Got some bad news before the game, it’s messing with my head.”
His friend’s brows pulled together. “Your dad? You need to go?”
Kieran shook his head. “No. I talked to Coach already, it’s nothing that won’t keep til the end of the game.”
Atticus nodded. “Well,” he began, glancing around as the rest of their teammates fell back into position. “We need you tonight.” He rapped his knuckles against Kieran’s forehead, earning an eye roll that he seemed to take as a sign of a job well done. “You’re our captain, after all.”
Any levity their exchange had provided was sucked away with those words. The same pressure that had been weighing on Kieran, growing heavier through each lost set, returned tenfold.
Atticus needed him. His team needed him. His family needed him.
Kieran felt stretched thin, his limbs tied to a rack that was tugging him in too many directions. He was reaching his limit, his joints ready to separate, his bones threatening to pull from the sockets. Thoughts of his father, of decisions, of a future that seemed to have suddenly arrived kept him from being able to focus. And yet, every time he found his mind wandering, every time his distraction caused them to lose another point, guilt gnawed deeper into Kieran.
If he couldn’t be there, be at his best for his team when their season was on the line, did he even deserve to play with them?
Another whistle, another play set into motion. The Sharks volleyed the ball back over the net. Carpenter was ready, hunching down for a gorgeous receive that sent the ball high into the air even as it knocked Eric on his ass, giving them all a moment to breathe.
Sweat dripped into Kieran’s eyes, burning as he tried to keep them open to watch the play. He needed to be ready. Hewouldn’t let another point slip through his grasp, he owed his team that much at least.
Seattle was there waiting, a triple block that the Cats barely recovered from. The rally was going long, too long, and each breath that Kieran sucked in burned his lungs.
Lu blocked a setter dump at the last second, his quick reflexes buying the Cats another chance to take the point. The Sharks recovered fast, and Kieran once again saw exactly what they were going to do. They had a behemoth of an outside hitter, a new player that Kieran didn’t know, his jersey sporting the number seventeen. Seventeen’s eyes were glued on the ball, and Kieran recognized the quiet composure dictating the man’s every movement.
“Block!” Kieran cried out, already sprinting toward the net, toward where he knew seventeen was going to spike it. There was a hole in their defense, one that Coach would absolutely tear into them for later that night.
Seventeen was in the air, arm arcing down like an executioner’s axe, sweat flying off his cool, dark brown skin. Kieran jumped, throwing himself into the block.
The ball crashed against his forearms, pain radiating from the impact, right as another body slammed into Kieran from the side.
Atticus cried out as he hit the ground, right as the ball smacked down on the Sharks’ side of the net.
No. No nono.Kieran hadn’t seen him, hadn’t seen anyone coming after he’d cried out for help with the block.
Kieran fell to his knees next to his setter. Seventeen from the other team was right next to him.
“You okay, man?”
Morris. The name on the back of his jersey was Morris. Atticus was shaking his head, his face twisted with pain as he gritted out something about his ankle. Kieran took in the worryon the opposing player’s face. What did Morris have to worry about?
The bad play had been Kieran’s fault, and Kieran’s fault alone.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SAMMIE WAS OUT of her seat and standing the moment Atticus hit the floor. Kai’s fingers wrapped around her wrist from where he still sat, frozen in his chair.
The medical team was already on the court, including Ivy, who was barking for the other players to get back and give Dr. Young room.
