Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Markie
“It’s a beautiful day,” I sing, turning onto Park Road.
My fingertips tap against the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing on the radio. The sun is bright, nearly blinding me, but I don’t care. I flip my visor down with gusto and a smile.
I’ve waited for this day for weeks—really, since the end of the championship match last year.
Nothing gets me as hyped as the Sugar Days tournament.
It’s a tradition that I remember my mother getting so excited about when I was a child.
The festival felt like magic, like a few days of fair food and Skee-Ball and staying up past my bedtime.
And now, every year when the carnival begins to filter into town, I feel the excitement in the air.
For a few days, everything feels the way it’s supposed to be.
Almost like my mother’s smiling down on me.
I chuckle. She’d definitely have something to say about my competitive streak.
As expected, a few people are already on the courts. I pull up next to a red car and put it in park. I have a few minutes before Adam arrives, so I take out my phone.
Me: What are you doing today?
Nettie’s reply comes immediately.
Nettie: I just woke up. It felt good to sleep in. What about you?
Me: Practicing with Adam in a few. Wanna hang out tonight? I miss you.
Nettie: YES. I was going to call you later after I woke up and had coffee. I have nothing going on all day, and it’s divine. What are you thinking? Night in with a movie or night out with a martini?
Me: Martini. Patsy’s around nine?
Nettie: I’ll see you then.
Me: xoxoxoxo
I look up … and right into the eyes of Jasper. He’s staring through the windshield at me as if he’s not surprised to see me, but the fake smile he flashes my way before he turns to the court tells me everything I need to know.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
My body tenses as he gets situated across from a pretty blonde about my height. She drops the ball and hits it across the court into the opposite service box with genuine skill, showing she’s done this a million times. Like they’ve done this a million times.
Jasper and Courtney rally, effortlessly volleying the ball back across the net.
Courtney handles the change in pace that Jasper throws at her—that I fucking helped him perfect, the son of a bitch—and seems to be more of a pickler than a banger.
Since Jasper’s preference is to bang, this could be a problem for their opponents.
Fuck. It’s not a death knell by any means, but it does mean that I have to bring my A game. It’ll take it to beat them.
I blow out a breath when my phone buzzes, thankful for a reason to look away from my adversaries. Adam’s name is on the screen.
“Hey,” I say, pressing the speakerphone button. “Get your butt down here. We have an audience, and I want to show off. Get into our opponent’s head.” I smile menacingly. “Give them something to think about.”
There’s a pause just long enough to make my heart skip a beat.
“About that …” Adam sighs. “I don’t know how to say this, and I’ve tried practicing it a million times over the past twenty-four hours.”
I sit taller, blood pooling in my eardrums. “Unless it’s a new strategy that you want to try, I don’t care to hear it.”
“Markie, I’m sorry.”
Sorry? What? No.
My stomach drops, twisting into the tightest knot that I’ve ever experienced.
“I realize what an opportunity it is to play with you,” he says. “Trust me when I know what I’m about to say is crazy.”
“Then don’t say it.”
He chuckles nervously. “I wish I didn’t have to.
” He takes a breath. “My girlfriend asked me to go with her to meet her family in Washington, and I agreed. This was last month. I guess I just got excited by the chance to play with you and didn’t check the date.
But it’s literally the same weekend, and she’s already purchased the tickets and made arrangements. ”
I drop my phone to my lap and stare straight ahead.
This can’t be happening.
I try to keep my features blank as Jasper glances my way again. He and Courtney gather their things, laughing with each other as they exit the court and head for a white SUV across the lot.
“Adam,” I say, plastering on a smile, “please tell me you’re joking. Please tell me that this is some sick joke and that you’re pulling up as we speak.”
“I wish I was. And if I wasn’t really serious about this girl, I’d figure out a way around it. Unfortunately, I love her and want to ask her to marry me. This is the perfect time to ask her father for her hand in marriage.”
Damn you, Adam. “There’s no way you can go the next weekend? Or the one before?” I cringe. “It has to be that weekend?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I’m going to take so much crap for this at work because I’ve been bragging about getting to play with you. But there’s really nothing I can do at this point, Markie. I’m sorry.”
I watch the SUV exit the park, then rest my forehead against the steering wheel.
Pain behind my right eye blossoms, and I struggle to breathe deeply. An elephant could be sitting on my chest, and I’d be none the wiser. The optimism I’ve had this week crashes around me, leaving me sitting in a puddle of dusty dreams.
I want one thing. Just one damn thing. And now I’m back to square one.
“Are you still there?” he asks.
“Yup. Still here.” Lifting my head, I stare sadly at the other teams on the court. “I guess that’s all there is to say.”
“I guess so. I’m sorry, Markie.”
“Have fun on your trip,” I say with absolutely no indication that I do, in fact, wish him a good time.
He groans. “Good luck. I hope you find someone to replace me, and I hope you kick ass again this year.”
As if that’s fucking possible now, dipshit.
“Thanks. Goodbye, Adam.”
“Goodbye.”
I hit the End button, and once I’m sure the call has been disconnected, I groan.
“There’s really nothing I can do at this point, Markie. I’m sorry.”
“Fuck you, Adam,” I say, smashing my palm against the center console. Every emotion flows through me like a flooded river. I don’t know which to try to catch and latch on to. Which emotion will help me navigate this … this tragedy?
I burned another week trying to accommodate him, and he didn’t even have the decency to let me know what was going on until this morning.
There’s no way he just found out about this.
As a matter of fact, he said he’d been practicing what to tell me and worrying about what the guys at work were going to say.
Yeah. He’s known about this for a couple of days, at least.
I press my fingertips to my eyes in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pressure building behind them.
I was kind enough to give him a week to prepare for practice, and he couldn’t give me a day’s notice?
Why is this so freaking typical?
It’s so typical, in fact, that I should’ve predicted it.
Exhaling, I give myself a couple of seconds to be pissed. Then I force myself to move on.
This can’t be the way this storyline ends. I can’t let Adam be the reason Jasper wins the tournament.
But there’s no one else to ask. I’ve auditioned every male with a semi-athletic ability from Sugar County and half from Colfax County, and none of them will be anything more than a liability. And I can’t even ask Tally since they’ve made it a co-ed event.
My chest begins to ache, and the unwelcome sensation of hot tears begins to fill my eyes. Out of all the years, why does this have to happen now?
I sniffle, shaking the thoughts out of my head. Delving into “poor me” energy isn’t going to solve this problem.
“No,” I say, breathing as deep as I can. “I’m not giving up this easily. I’m not walking away from this and handing the victory to Jasper, then watching the headlines that he and his mistress dethroned me.”
The thought makes me want to rage.
I stare straight ahead, shuffling through every possible option until I land on one.
That one.
My stomach tightens as I realize what I’m up against.
I knew Jory and I had chemistry, and technically speaking, he could be a great teammate. But I also suspected that he was too gorgeous, too charming—too everything to be of any use to me. Because a distracted teammate is a crappy teammate, and I’d for sure be distracted by him.
Little did I know then that Jory is even better looking, kinder, and more charming than I could fathom.
But he’s the only person in this half of Tennessee who could guarantee me a victory. And at this point, with only three weeks to go, beggars can’t be choosers.
“When you change your mind later, you’re going to beg.”
A shiver snakes its way down my spine.
It’s either ask him or lose.
My jaw clenches as I throw my car in reverse.
And I don’t lose.