24. Jordan
CHAPTER 24
JORDAN
I ’m a glutton for punishment.
That’s the only possible explanation as to why I came. I couldn’t help it. I might love her enough to keep her away from me, but I’m not even close to disciplined enough not to come watch her play.
I needed to come. I needed to see her, to be sure she was okay. And also because even simply sitting in the stands makes me feel close to her. I’m feeling guilty about it, though, as I see her glance up here every few minutes.
Normally, Lucy is the picture of joy when playing. She can’t help but smile every once in a while because she loves it so much. She told me that for a long time, she tried to be the super-serious type, but it just didn’t work. I believe her exact words were, “I can smile and still be the most cutthroat competitor you’ve ever had the displeasure of encountering.”
The girl has a way with words.
The memory brings a smile to my lips.
But today, her smile is gone.
Even in warmups, she seems slightly off. I know precisely why, but I also know it couldn’t be helped. One day, she’ll understand. I hope. Although the thought of her moving on, seeing her date someone else through pictures online, eventually seeing an engagement announcement and wedding–I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.
That was supposed to be me.
Now I keep imagining some faceless man in that place, living the life I had tricked myself into believing could be mine.
A small consolation is that Sasha looks miserable throughout the course of warmups. I’d love to know the story there. Good for whoever pulled that one off.
The game starts, and I’m mesmerized by Lucy, per usual. The grace with which she plays is unmatched. The ball is an extension of her body. Every move is controlled and looks so natural, and I can’t take my eyes off her.
Although, I do notice some out-of-character plays. Not seeing open teammates, errant passes, and missed easy shots. I can’t help but blame myself. Luckily, the game isn’t close. It’s almost funny that on Lucy’s off day, she still has 22 points and 8 assists.
By the time the fourth quarter rolls around, the game is essentially over. I see her coach clear the bench, ready to pull the starters so they can rest for the remaining five minutes at the next dead ball. It’s a smart move. You don’t want unnecessary injuries.
But before they have the chance to sub out, Lucy snags a steal and dribbles the length of the court. She jumps up to put it in for an easy layup, but as her foot comes down, it finds the defender's foot. I feel like I’m watching it happen in slow motion as she rolls to the ground, clutching her left ankle.
My heart drops. I close my eyes.
This can’t be happening to her.
Not again.
The trainer rushes onto the floor with the head coach, both looking positively despondent. Lucy quickly sits up, attempting to brush it off. It looks like she’s willing everything to be okay when everyone in the gym can plainly see that it isn’t.
She smiles through gritted teeth as they pull her to her feet. The first step she takes on her left foot, it almost gives out, but Lucy is nothing if not tough as nails.
She refuses to let the insistent trainer support her as she slowly walks to the bench, giving a thumbs-up to the crowd. The entire arena gives a collective sigh of relief and then cheers as she continues the slow slog to the end of the bench. Of course Lucy’s worried about reassuring everyone else even amidst her own intense physical and probably emotional pain.
Before I know what I’m doing, I find myself walking down the steps to the end of the bench where she’s now sitting with Callie, the trainer. I feel like my legs had a mind of their own as they took me to her. Crouching down, I lay my hand on her shoulder.
Lucy looks over, surprised. A hopeful look flashes across her face when she sees me, but it’s replaced by annoyance so fast, I wonder if I imagined it.
“What do you want, Jordan?”
What do I want? Excellent question. I have apparently lost control of my faculties because I couldn’t fight the intense urge to be certain she’s all right. Even if I’m the last person she wants to see right now.
“Are you okay?”
She smiles sarcastically. I see how clenched her jaw is right now, and I know she’s in real agony.
“I’m peachy. Back-to-back days of fun stuff. At least now the external matches the internal, so I’m fully in sync and the world is reaching total balance. I bet it’s a full moon or some BS like that.”
I choke on my unexpected laugh. I can’t help it. Even now, her sarcasm is unmatched. I know she’s also attempting to distract herself from thinking about her aching ankle and the potential worst-case scenarios. “Glad to hear it.”
Callie has been chuckling listening to us bicker as she pokes and prods the already swollen foot. “Okay, Lucy. I think we got lucky. It’s sprained pretty badly, but I’m relatively certain nothing’s broken.”
Lucy’s nodding along earnestly as the game resumes behind her, and I see a tear trickle down her cheek. Thankfully, it’s accompanied by a relieved smile. I want to cry for her. She doesn’t deserve any of this. The hurt I caused, this god-awful injury–none of it is fair to her.
Callie continues, “But if we’re going to have you back in time for the conference tournament, you’re going to need to be insanely diligent. Icing, heating, stretching, and doing the exercises I give you. I’m putting you on crutches right now. No weight-bearing for at least two days to give the swelling a chance to subside.”
Lucy is locked in as she nods along, but Callie’s next statement throws her.
“You’ll need someone with you pretty much around the clock. You live with Britt, Kya, and AJ, right? They’ve all had injuries before, so they’re experienced at this type of thing.”
Lucy twists toward the court to clap as one of the freshmen makes a free throw, then turns back to us with a slow exhale. “Yes, they have, but…they’re all out of town for the next few days.”
Callie slaps her forehead. “Oh, duh. I forgot all those teams are on the road.”
I’m looking back and forth between the two of them like I’m watching a tennis match, the silent spectator attempting to follow the action.
“Who can come stay with you? You absolutely shouldn’t be alone.”
Once again, my body reacts before my mind can think anything through. It’s not a surprise that my knee-jerk reaction is wanting to take care of Lucy whether she wants me to or not.
“I’ll do it.”
Lucy turns slowly, the heat of her glare burning a hole through my soul. “You can’t be serious.”
At that moment, the final buzzer sounds. Everyone goes through the handshake line, and then every player from both teams comes to check on Lucy. I sit back, watching her in utter adoration as she reassures them she’s going to be fine come tournament time. I don’t deserve the pride I feel sitting there with her, but I can’t help it.
At one time, she was mine.
Like twenty-four hours ago.
And I know I’ll definitely always love her.
I give her a small smile as the last person walks back to the locker room. She turns to me, and the fake smile she was wearing moments ago melts away when she looks at me. The hurt behind her eyes almost breaks me again, just like it did the second she closed the door yesterday.
Then she stands, with Callie supporting her, and begins to limp toward the locker room. Cue my inability to leave her alone. I scoop her up, and despite her aggressive protests, I carry her to the locker room.
The fans still left in the stands cheer and “aww.” A few people whistle. It would be an adorable moment if it wasn’t so messed up. I break up with her and then won’t give her even a millimeter of space.
I know more than just her ankle is hurting because she refuses to meet my eyes.
The closeness is already something I miss.
Her smell, her hair draped over my arm, the softness of her skin.
I take the walk more slowly than necessary simply to soak in this time that I get to hold her. We reach the locker room, and I gently set her down. The second I’m not holding her anymore, I crave her touch again. This girl belongs in my arms.
She doesn’t say a word. She just pushes the door open and limps away, but I’m not going anywhere.
After about ten minutes, the team starts to filter out. A few say hi to me, certainly not aware of the breakup yet–otherwise, they’d be staring daggers. The most bizarre interaction is with Sasha. Her eyes grow wide when she sees me. Then looking down, she walks past me before awkwardly turning back around.
“Umm, I just wanted to…Lucy was almost ready. She’ll be out in a minute.”
I’m so caught off guard by whatever this is. “Okay…thanks.”
She nods and then bolts down the hallway. Clearly something happened, but I don’t have time to dwell on it because I hear a crashing sound. Then a familiar voice yells.
“Dammit!”
I knock on the door. “Lucy, is everything okay?”
Silence.
“Lucy?”
Still nothing.
“That’s it. I’m coming in.”
I close my eyes just in case and push through the door.
“Is everyone decent? Can I open my eyes?”
Something hard smokes me in the face, followed by a laugh. “Yes, you’re good.”
I open my eyes to see Lucy on the floor next to a knocked-over chair and some crutches. She’s the only one left, so she’s definitely the one who threw whatever it was–a shoe, by the looks of it–at me.
I pick it up and toss it back. “Was there a reason for throwing this, or…?”
She smiles, her face a combination of mischief and feigned innocence. “Had to be sure you weren’t peeking. ”
“But you’re fully clothed, and there’s no one else here.”
She shrugs. “Well, if those two statements weren’t true, I wanted to be sure you weren’t being a creep.”
I nod, as though this all makes sense, when in fact I’m a little offended. “Of course. Because I’ve given you every reason not to trust me.”
Her eyes grow wide, and I want to suck the words right back the second I hear them. “I mean…I’m so sorry. That wasn’t cool. Terrible choice of phrase.”
For a moment, I’d forgotten where we stood. I let myself fall right back into our sarcastic banter. Now I just look at her and wonder “What if?” It’s a question I can’t let myself answer.
Her gaze has turned back toward the floor. She’s blinking rapidly, as if fighting tears. Every second of this is torture because I did this to her. I wanted nothing more than to protect her, and in the end, I’m the one who hurt her the worst.
It’s so predictable.
Take one look at my lineage. I always knew I was bringing too much baggage to the table. Is there a story like Cinderella, except the guy is the one way out of his league, and he ends up hurting the princess? Not sure.
Either way, I need to keep reminding myself that this is truly for the best.
Which is a difficult feat when I’m faced with Lucy’s tears.
Finally, she breaks the silence. “Do you need something? I want to get going.”
“Yeah, I’m taking you home.” So much for giving her space.
“Ha. Like hell you are.”
Her face is resolute as she wobbles to her feet and attempts to grab her bags. It’s painful to witness the struggle. It’s especially hard when she tumbles to the floor once again.
She looks up at me with a mixture of bitterness and defeat. I walk over, pull her up, hand her the crutches, and grab her bags. I hold the door open as she crutches through.
Without looking at me, she heads down the hallway.
I hate myself for hurting her and for secretly loving the fact that I have an excuse to take care of her again.
It’s really all I’ve ever wanted to do.