I don’t want to talk about anything with him. There’s already far too much in my head.
It’s the text from Neve, asking if we could talk tonight.
The coolness from Sylvan, still respectful but distant. Not that we were ever close, but he’s acting like a bratty kid, snarky when he should be focused. Complying but only barely. He played terribly tonight, which meansIplayed terribly. The games this weekend should be easy, but nothing is ever guaranteed.
Wynon folds his arms as he stares down at me. Red polo shirt, khaki pants, his cheeks pink, graying hair thick andtussled. He got a hair transplant over the summer. At fifty-three, he looks good.
He played for years for Carolina’s team, and I’ve had half a mind to ask him how it was, living in Raleigh, even though I’d never thought to ask him such a thing before.
It’s Neve.
She’s in my fucking head.
But I know the reason she wants to talk isn’t because I’m in hers the same way.
It’s the murder.
This time, I was nowhere near the location of the body. I’d gone into town to sign autographs and spend time with kids. It was fun, being with them. One blond boy with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen told me he hoped to live through his treatment so he could be just like me when he grew up.
Just thinking about it now makes me feel breathless.
I hope he does too, but he’ll be better than me.
He’s got that joy I seem to have misplaced.
“It’s not until next season,” I say, putting him off. We both know it’s still important now.
It came in late September.
The pressure is growing, even if it is for next season.
In some ways, it’s a dream come true. Everything my parents hoped for. Everything I’ve spent most of my life chasing.
Do I still want it? I told myself I had to think about it, leaving Mom. But it seems like fate had other plans. It isn’t her or Rachel I’m worried about now.
There’s something—someone—else inside my mind.
“I need to know your head is in the gamethisseason,” Wynon says in that half-yelling, half-whispering tone he has.
I like him. A lot. Respect him even more than I like him.
But I can’t give him answers I don’t have.
I nod once, hands on my knees. “It is. We’re ranked second in the whole division?—”
“That’s not first.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. This early, it doesn’t matter, and we both know it.
“We will be.”
Wynon lifts his chin, staring down his nose at me. “I need to know what you’re thinking. Because this afternoon? You weren’t here.”
Neve.
Sylvan.
Neve and Sylvan, that’s what I’m fucking thinking.
