Chapter 17 #2
But right now, I can’t even walk straight, so I’ll have to dig deep and give him that one good serve he wants so we can walk off this court and listen to Drew telling me how another sponsor dropped me while trying to spin it as good news.
I can’t seem to crawl out of this lousy rut.
After grabbing a tennis ball, I bounce it again six times and refresh Henry’s memory on how to NEHBL since, for some reason, he thinks I’m not doing it correctly.
“Nose! Ear! Hair! Brow! Lip!” I call out each step, tossing the ball high and summoning the last bit of energy I have left.
I hit it so hard it nearly knocks the air out of me, but it lands beautifully inside the right service box, slamming into the fence.
A few people watching take an instinctive step back.
A flicker of smug satisfaction blooms in my chest
“I’m telling you!” Henry flashes a cocky smile. “You’re missing one of the steps. For some reason, you decided to stop doing the—Bells!” he shouts in a panic, rushing toward me.
Henry’s voice fades away quickly. A million black spots cloud my vision, making me take a few stumbling steps. I shake my head, trying to settle myself and fight back the blur. Uselessly, I reach out for him, but my knees hit the ground a second before he catches me.
“Ne … cio,” I breathe, surrendering to the darkness.
Welcoming it.
Letting it pull me under and swallow me whole.
My eyes flutter open, and the first thing I notice is that I’m in the doctor’s office at the country club. The air is crisp, carrying a pungent, sterile scent. I’m grateful for the air conditioning.
The second thing I notice is Henry’s firm and warm hand gripping mine. His other elbow rests on the bed, his hand pressed against his forehead as he stares down at his fidgeting feet.
“She’s awake!” Dr. Lee announces, striding into his office without warning.
Henry drops my hand like I’m contagious, shoving himself back in his chair.
Regret tightens his features. He pushed me too hard at practice.
I wasn’t in any condition to train, and he knew it.
But his pride and anger took over, blinding him.
He wanted to teach me a lesson when I’d already learned it on my own.
“Henry tells me you and Gemma paid Rudy’s hotdog stand a visit last night,” Dr. Lee says, lifting an eyebrow like he’s caught me red-handed. “Brave move. That chili’s legendary. For better or worse.”
I glance past him, searching for Henry’s gaze. He lied to protect me. He knows if my dad finds out I was out drinking, things will get ugly fast.
“I’m telling you,” Dr. Lee adds with a chuckle, “Rudy’s chili should come with a waiver. Delicious, but lethal.”
“You’re not wrong about that one,” I reply with a slow smile.
“How’s the nausea?” he asks. “The nurse gave you an antiemetic shot. Thankfully, your mom was around to authorize it. I would’ve called your dad, but I like my job.”
Henry and I chuckle.
If Mom is here, why isn’t she checking in on me?
“Thank you, Dr. Lee. I’m feeling much better, just exhausted from the jet lag,” I say, trying to sit up.
I manage, but my head still feels off, and my knees are bruised.
Nothing major. I’m not used to feeling like this.
I rarely get sick. I can’t remember the last time I had a cold.
Maybe I just need to eat, even if it’s the last thing I want.
“I wanted to rest today,” I add, “but Henry insisted I work on my serve.”
I shoot Henry a small smile. Let him take the blame for this one.
“I’m not one to meddle or tell you how to do your job, Henry,” Dr. Lee says, “but after a few days of stress and international travel, sometimes it’s best not to run your players into the ground. You don’t want her burning out.”
Dr. Lee has known Henry and me since we were kids. We spent so much time training at the club that visits to his office were inevitable with multiple scraped knees, sprained ankles, etcetera.
“How’s my favorite client doing?” Drew says, flashing a thousand-watt smile as he steps into Dr. Lee’s office, tapping a box of cigarettes against his palm. “Glad to see you’re back online.”
“If you light that, Drew, I’ll prescribe you a swift exit,” Dr. Lee warns without looking up. “This is a medical facility, not a 1950s lounge.”
Drew lifts his hands, feigning innocence.
“You’re good to go, Belén,” Dr. Lee says, opening a cabinet and pulling out a small, white box and a grape-flavored lollipop.
“Take these antacids every six hours, try to eat something that didn’t come off a food truck, and drink actual water.
” He sets the box beside me with a look that says I mean it.
“Rest. As in horizontal. No treadmill, no serves, no pretending you’re invincible.” He glances at Henry with a raised brow. “And if your coach over here tries to sneak you into a training session tomorrow, send him back to me.”
Henry responds with a sharp nod and pursed lips like he’s been sent to the principal’s office.
“Thanks, Doc,” I say, rising slowly.
I’m still woozy but feeling better.
“Off you go, kids.”
Henry lifts a brow at Dr. Lee’s dismissal, and I bite my tongue to keep from laughing. He’s an adult, and I’m getting there, but to Dr. Lee, we’ll always be kids.
Drew offers me his arm, and I link mine with his as we head out toward the restaurant. Henry follows close behind.
We settle at the same table Drew had been using while I was training. A drained cup of coffee and a small bowl of half-eaten fruit sit in front of him.
“Feeling better?” Drew asks with a smile, though I can hear the concern beneath his words. Concern I don’t want him passing on to my dad.
“Yeah, just exhausted from the trip.”
“I get it,” he says with a pout, signaling Bobby, one of the servers, to come over.
Bobby greets us, pours water into our glasses from a pitcher, and asks if we’d like to order anything.
“Coffee and scrambled eggs for the young lady, please. And don’t forget that spicy red sauce she likes. More coffee for me. Henry, what about you?”
“Drew, I’m not hungry,” I say, the void in my stomach growing again. “Besides, I don’t know if I should be eating spicy food right now.” I hold up the medication box, pop an antacid pill into my mouth, and wash it down with water.
“Actually … you should. Spicy food’s great for a hangover,” he says with a wink. “Trust me. Coffee can only get you so far. You need something solid in that belly.”
My eyes widen at Drew’s words. Bobby is standing right there, and he knows my dad. Everyone knows everyone around here. Drew needs to keep it down.
This is precisely why I hate the country club. There’s no such thing as privacy.
“I’ll have the same, Bobby,” Henry says with a smile. “Coffee and eggs, please. But throw in three extra egg whites. And I’ll have some of that red sauce, too.”
“Sure thing,” Bobby replies, not bothering to jot down the easy order. “I’ll be right back with your coffee.”
I glare at Henry. He must have told Drew I drank yesterday while I was out.
“It wasn’t me, so don’t look at me like that,” Henry says, as if reading my mind, taking a sip of his water. “You know how Drew operates.”
Drew laughs.
“Naturally, I got worried when your dad told me the two of you didn’t spend the night back at the Batista-Freeman residence.”
“Worried or curious?” I say flatly.
But wait … what does he mean Henry didn’t spend the night back home? Did he go back to the party after dropping me off at Gemma’s?
“I wanted to find out why my favorite client fainted at practice this morning. But, you know, it’s part of the job.”
“No, it is not,” I say with an exasperated laugh.
“Anyway, I called Vlad the second your dad confirmed you slept over at Gemma’s. But not you, though,” Drew says, nodding at Henry. “Your whereabouts are still a mystery.” He tsks. “But y’all know Vlad. Man of few words. Although, he did mention you had quite the night.”
I glare at Henry, but he’s smart enough to keep his gaze on Drew. This makes me feel like I don’t know him anymore all over again, and I hate that feeling.
Drew narrows his eyes at us with suspicion. “Unless the two of you …” He drags a finger back and forth between us. “You know …”
“No!” Henry and I exclaim at the same time.
“No,” I say again, trying to sound calmer.
“Good,” Drew says in a serious tone, flattening his tie with his hand. “One less thing to worry about. Joe wouldn’t be thrilled if you two got involved, that much I know.” He shakes his head, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Silly me. For a second there, I forgot about Liam.”
“Liam and I broke up this morning,” I say before I can second-guess it, clearing my throat to keep the lump from choking me up. Even if it was for the best, thinking about losing him, and how much I hurt him, still makes my chest tighten.
“Ah, good to know.” He laces his fingers, setting them on the table like we’re about to sign a peace treaty. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“It’s fine,” I say, brushing off the ache before it can tighten its grip on me, shifting back to the real issue. “Listen, I don’t know what Vlad told you, but I do have an upset stomach. I ate a chili dog at the party.”
Drew chuckles. “So, you’re telling me you fainted at practice because you ate chili last night?” He scoffs. “Girl, you’re half Mexican. Chili ain’t got nothin’ on you.”
Drew likes to think of himself as half agent, half babysitter. I get it, he’s known me since I was born and he’s loyal to my dad. But mostly, he’s a busybody who loves meddling in everyone’s business, especially mine. Still, I love Drew. That’s why it’s so damn hard to stay mad at him.
There’s no use denying the obvious.
“Okay,” I admit, deflated, leaning in and lowering my voice. “I had a couple of drinks, but they didn’t agree with me. Please don’t tell my dad.”
“Y’all’s secret is safe with me.” Drew winks, pointing his fork at Henry and me before stabbing a piece of fruit.
“I don’t drink,” Henry says, his voice edged with irritation.