36. Arnaz
ARNAZ
“Winter”
In me, an unceasing winter.
Heat bled out, blood blistered.
I hit rewind, then play.
He hangs his head as he walks toward the bench. The crowd is cheering him, but it’s like he can’t hear them.
I rewind the video again, then hit pause.
Clicking back over to the tab from his game two weeks ago, I drag it next to the one of last night’s game.
I hit play on them both.
There!
I freeze both screens.
Shoulders hunched, bags under his eyes, he sinks into the chair, and unlike everyone on the bench whose head is turned toward the game, his stays facing straight ahead.
Shit.
I know what happens next, yet my throat still grows a lump when I hit rewind and watch it again.
I know this can’t be about me.
So, who or what did this?
Ow. I pull my thumb away from my teeth and watch a line of blood form. I switch to my other thumb.
Who hurt him?
Climbing out of bed and grabbing my phone, I pace the room and call the only person I know who might have answers.
“Arnaz, what’s wrong?”
“Cat, is he okay?”
“Who?”
“Salem. Who else?”
“Jones?” she asks, her voice more alert. I hear a thud. “Where are my glasses?”
Lys’s voice filters through, asking, “What’s going on?”
“ I don’t know. Something happened to Jones,” she tells her. “Cade, are you there? What happened?”
“I don’t know what happened. That’s why I’m calling you.”
“Why do you think something happened?”
“He looks sad. Something’s off.”
“Sad? What do you mean, sad? Where?”
“His last game. The third quarter. He’s headed?—”
“Wait, hold on. It’s…two thirty-three in the morning, and you’re calling me because Salem looks sad ?”
I hear her whisper off the line, “Go back to sleep,” as I pull the phone away from my ear and wince. The hell? The last time I looked, it was just after ten.
“Shit.”
“Did you take something? Where are you?”
“No. I’m sob?—”
“I can send Dr. Thomas over. You know she’s trustworthy and discreet. Whatever is needed, we’ll handle it privately.”
It sounds like she’s the one pacing now.
“I’m not high.”
“Name the last three teams you played.”
“Cat, I’m not high. I’m home. My bad for calling so late.”
“Arnaz, wait. You know I can’t disclose client information.”
My pulse takes off. “What does that mean? Are you saying something’s wrong without saying it?”
“No. It means that even if something was wrong, and I’m not saying there is, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Are you two having a fight?”
“Cat, if something was seriously wrong with him, I’d need to know.”
“Okay, now I’m worried again. You sound really upset.”
“Just please…” My ribs clench tight, squeezing the words into a watery whisper. “Tell me. Please.”
“Hey.” Her voice softens. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
I crash into my armchair and cradle the side of my head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“But you’re crying.”
“I just need to know. Tell me. Please.”
“I will call him, okay? If there is something wrong, I’ll be there for him. But I am more concerned about you right now. If I leave now, I can get to you by the morni?—”
“I’m fine. Tell Lys I’m sorry.”
I hang up and drop the phone.