18. Ella
Eighteen
Ella
I had the couch, a bowl of cereal, and the TV just loud enough to pretend the silence didn’t creep me out. Hunter wasn’t home, and the house felt too quiet. Too… curated .
Naturally, I remedied this by blasting a dramatic French Open replay like it was Sunday Mass, letting the surround sound he’d meticulously set up fill every corner of the living room.
The crowd noise drifted through the rooms like canned ambiance, keeping the emptiness at bay.
Ridiculous?
Totally. But hey, if pretending I was courtside kept me from spiraling, I’d take it.
A ray of winter sunlight sliced across the hardwood floor and hit my cereal bowl like a spotlight. The scent of cinnamon, oat milk, and fancy coffee lingered in the air.
My hoodie sleeves were pulled over my hands — Robot Boy liked it way too cold — and my spoon clinked against the ceramic bowl.
I’d been here two and a half weeks, and I still felt like I was squatting in a museum. To contradict this feeling, I kept cluttering up one corner of the living room like a feral raccoon.
It was the principle, at this point.
I’d also officially claimed the good throw blanket, one coffee mug, and the left side of the couch.
Hunter hadn’t commented on it, not like he ever really did. He was more of a recluse, disappearing into his “bat cave” and spending most of his time holed up in his room rather than wandering around the house.
My phone, sitting face down on the armrest, buzzed, but I ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Eh . If it were really important, whoever it was would call.
Suddenly, there was loud and erratic banging. The door was rattling as someone pounded their fist against it like they wanted to fucking pulverize it. Never a good vibe at 9 a.m.
“Ella!” My brother’s voice boomed through the door. “You home? Open up!”
I groaned, throwing my head back, and sighed. So much for peace. Well, my version of peace. The universe heard me relaxing and decided it was unacceptable.
When I unlocked the door, Dom barreled in, flushed and wide-eyed. His hoodie was only halfway zipped, and his gym bag was dragging off his shoulder.
The smell of sweat, old turf, and panic trailed behind him.
I walked back to the couch to hit pause on the French Open replay, freezing the dramatic cheers mid-crowd eruption, as I braced myself for the chaos he was about to bring.
His breathing was erratic, like he ran here, and maybe he did. Who knew with my brother.
On the other hand, he had pretty much fused with his truck like some big symbiotic blob, so it would be surprising if he ditched that monster.
“Ella. I-I need to talk to you. Right now,” he choked out, his knuckles turning white around the strap of his bag.
I furrowed my brows. “Um, based on the way you burst in here, I would’ve hoped there was something urgent going on. So, how did you fuck up? What is she mad about?”
He recoiled. “She?”
“Sierra. Duh! Your girlfriend. The one you made so mad, you need my advice.” I made a circular motion in the air.
“That’s not what … wait!” His eyes widened in panic. “Did she say anything to you? Is she mad at me?”
“No. I assumed maybe this time you were thinking one step ahead.” I shrugged.
Dom groaned, ripping his cap off his head and running his fingers through his hair. “That’s not why I’m here. I need you to listen to me. Really listen.”
I led him into the living room and perched my ass on the edge of the couch, keeping a wary eye on him. He sounded serious, perhaps more serious than I’d ever heard him.
“Okay. I’m listening.”
Dom opened his mouth and snapped it closed again. My stomach dropped before he even said a word. Something was off. Way off.
He wasn’t the guy who panicked. He was the one who threw parties during finals week and still passed.
When the words finally burst out of him, it took even me a second to catch up.
“A couple of days ago … I overheard something,” he began, his voice tight.
“Heard the trainers, Coach, and some of the players talking in the hallway. They didn’t know I was there.
I just happened to be passing by. They were joking about the vitamins we take, but it was quite fucking clear what they were calling vitamins were actually something else.
I heard enough. Whatever the hell they were giving us, the shit wasn’t legal.
Coach said they were just vitamin boosters.
He said the trainers used ‘em during doubles to keep us sharp. Now he’s gone ghost, and Compliance is crawling all over the fucking locker room. ”
“Wait — boosters like what? Injections? Pills? What are we talking about here?” I stared at him, wide-eyed.
He was pulling so hard on his hair, I was afraid he might tear it out. “Some kind of shot up my fucking arm!”
I’d seen Dom bloodied after games, limping off the field, laughing through pain. I’d never seen him scared.
“Okay, let’s just take a deep breath. You’re spiraling.”
He glared at me. “Well, ex-fucking-cuse me for freaking out about my future falling apart!”
Then, in a softer voice, he said, “Why would they lie about that? Why would they lie to us?”
“Tell me you still have the packaging. Anything. Even a label.” I sighed.
Dom scoffed. “Never even saw anything of the sort. Coach called me into his office, said something about mandatory vitamin shots, and I fucking believed him. Why wouldn’t I? I didn’t ask questions. None of us did. We just … trusted him.”
He dropped his bag with a loud thud before he began to pace the length of the room, the floorboards creaking in uneven rhythm. “I trusted him. I trusted him.”
“Are we talking NCAA-level violations or ‘you’re about to grow a third eye’ kind of shit?” I inquired. I couldn’t fucking stop thinking about what kind of shit they shot up my little brother’s arm.
“Right now, I’d take the extra eye over my whole career going down the drain.” He groaned.
My head was starting to hurt; the soft and pale light filtering into the room was making the tension feel too visible.
The bowl of cereal I’d been munching was sitting untouched on the coffee table, now soggy.
“He said it was just B12. Boosters. Hydration. Stuff the pros use. Now they’re taking blood. They’ve brought in fucking lawyers, Ella.” He was pacing again. Back and forth, back and forth.
“How long has this been happening? Since the season started?”
“I don’t know. Maybe even longer for some of the other guys, but I just went in one time. I swear!”
I eyed him sharply. Dom and I were Irish twins. We grew up as close as any siblings could, and I knew my brother, perhaps, better than anyone else did.
I’d never seen him this shaken, not even when he thought he tore his ACL.
“Dom.” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “You had to have asked something. A name. A vial. Anything.”
“You think I’d do this if I knew what the hell it was?
You think I’d be barging in here?” He threw up his hands, looking ready to punch a hole through the wall.
“The trainers and the medical staff didn’t have a choice.
Coach had them over a barrel — their jobs were on the line if they didn’t comply. ”
“Shit, Dom. If this blows up, it’s not just the team. It’s your eligibility. Your draft,” I whispered, my hands clenching into fists in my lap without realizing.
He could lose everything , and all he did was trust the wrong people. People he was supposed to rely on.
Dom collapsed onto the couch, the frame creaking under his weight, his expression forlorn. Like it was already over, like there was nothing we could do.
“Hey. We’ll figure it out, okay? You’re not alone in this.” I squeezed his shoulder, trying to paste on a reassuring smile.
“You didn’t cheat, Dom. You were lied to. That matters . Let me think. I’ll find someone. There’s gotta be a way to clear this.”
And now he was looking at me like I knew what to do. Like his big sister could fix this.
My mouth felt dry, like I’d swallowed a whole bucket load of sawdust.
“It wasn’t just the coach. Some of the guys knew,” he admitted.
Leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees, he rubbed his hands together as if he could scrub the guilt off. “I thought they were just being weird about it, but no. They were in on it.”
His voice is softer now. “One of ‘em said we’re just the fall guys. That Coach has someone cleaning things up behind the scenes. They think he’s got people covering his ass.”
Fuck . My stomach tightened at the crestfallen expression on his face. I didn’t know who was protecting the coach, but maybe I knew someone who could dig under the floorboards.
“Okay. Okay. I’m gonna need you to calm down, and I’ll … see what I can do.” I rubbed my palm across my forehead.
“I didn’t want to drag you into this. I haven’t even told Sierra. If her name gets dragged into this in any way, I’d never forgive myself.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his head bowed. “I don’t even know what’s real anymore, Ella.”
I felt my chest tighten. I thought back to everything we’d navigated together before. The secrets we’d uncovered, the ways we’d shielded people we cared about from the fallout, even when it meant putting ourselves at risk.
It’s what we did: protecting one another. Always . No matter how messy or impossible things got, we carried each other through.
“I can’t promise anything, but … just let me try, okay?”
If someone was making things disappear, maybe it was time to fight fire with napalm.
And I just so happened to live with the most dangerous kind of arsonist.
Long after Dom left, my fingers were still hovering over my phone, like I hadn’t made the decision yet.
I hadn’t texted or called Hunter, but I’d been thinking out loud, and if anyone could hear thoughts that shouldn’t be broadcast, it was him.
I shuffled down the hallway to my bedroom, phone in hand and dragging my blanket behind me. In the dim light, the room felt smaller, with shadows pooling in the corners. Yet it felt more like my space than the rest of the house.
I collapsed onto the bed with my laptop propped on my knees and started scrolling through articles and forums on performance-enhancing drugs in football.
My heart raced, and my mind went into overdrive — a mixture of curiosity, worry and disbelief.
Outside the window, the winter light had long faded, and the house was quiet except for the soft hum of electronics.
A single thought echoed through my head.
If anyone can fix this, it’s the man who never asks questions, but simply makes things disappear.
My phone buzzed, and I wasn’t even the least bit surprised when his name flashed across my screen.
Hunter: I heard about Dom. Come to my room.
When the fuck had he even gotten home?
I sucked in a deep breath. The truth was, I wasn’t even dreading going to his room. In fact, my stomach was fluttering with excitement about finally having a reason to be close to him again.
Whatever this was, it had already set in motion, and I wasn’t sure I could stop it anymore. Or if I wanted to.
Without even opening the text, I walked toward my door, slowly, deliberately.
Some people ran from the fire, but I’d always liked to play with it.
I told myself this was for Dom. For the truth. But the moment my hand touched his door, I knew it was a lie.