Begin Again

Chapter One

“Remember when that was you down there?” The question came from Samantha Martin’s oldest friend in the world, Jordan Davies, who was looking down at the action on the court.

They were back at their alma mater, Hicksville High, in a microscopic town about an hour south of Pittsburgh.

The sounds of shoes squeaking were interspersed with the soft sounds of sets, followed by the sharper, more forceful sounds of a volleyball being spiked toward the ground.

This time, it landed just to the left of the player, who was diving to catch it.

The visiting crowd cheered their point as the ball was too much for Sam’s former team to handle.

“I really cannot.” Sam ruefully shook her head at the missed point. She turned to Jordan. “Tell me honestly…were my shorts really that short? They weren’t. They couldn’t have been.”

Jordan let out a snort. He moved to open his mouth to comment, but Sam cut him off by holding up a finger and closing her eyes. “Shh,” she said. “I want to hear this.”

The server sent the ball over the net, where it was easily played with a bump from the center line to the setter hovering near the right.

She called out a player’s name before shooting the ball across the net, setting her up for the spike.

The striker was just a bit too slow or a bit too short, and the ball careened into the net.

“Her audible is about two seconds off,” Sam observed.

“She’s not giving the striker enough time to get in position before she sets the ball over.

It makes her wind-up slower, and her release goes into the net.

She needs to call the play before the ball even reaches her.

” Sam gestured back and forth, making her point.

“She should know from the angle of the serve where it’s going to go. ”

Jordan just smiled and shook his head. He was used to Sam’s deflection tactics. “What are we doing here, buddy?” he asked after a minute. “Are we here to relive your high school glory days? Or are you trying to one-up Tegan for leaving you for that twenty-one-year-old ex-cheerleader?”

At the second comment, Sam’s head whipped around to face her friend almost as fast as her hand snapped out to smack him on the shoulder.

“Dude,” Sam growled. “Here’s the line.” She indicated with her hand, throwing him a death stare. She waved her hand over and back. “You’re crossing it.”

Jordan, as usual, wasn’t fazed by her tone or her stare. He shrugged. “Okay…we’ll go with the first option, then.”

“First off, Tiffani wasn’t a twenty-one-year-old ex-cheerleader.

” Sam held up one finger for emphasis. “It was the dance squad. Not cheer. They are entirely different sports.” As an athlete and feminist, she had no problem with cheerleading or dance, but the whole situation with Tiffani still pissed her off.

“And second”—she added another finger—“she was in grad school. She had just turned twenty-three in May.”

“Damn.” Jordan shook his head. “That’s brutal.”

“Believe me, I know,” Sam spat out. “And finally”—throwing up a third finger—“she had been one of Tegan’s students, for Christ’s sake.

Who does that?” Sam turned to look at her friend, whose expression was a mixture of horror and wonderment.

The story wasn’t new to him, but since he was now adjunct faculty himself, it still seemed to fascinate him.

“There are just so many ethical violations that I can’t even count.

” She shook her head with bitterness. “And she almost got away with it!”

Six months ago, Sam had discovered that Tegan, her partner of three years, was cheating on her.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, matters were made worse because the affair was with one of her graduate student teaching assistants—an admittedly gorgeous twenty-three-year-old student who was still on the school’s dance team.

Sam found out when she noticed a series of texts that had come in while she was using Tegan’s iPad.

She didn’t even try to hide it when Sam confronted her.

After going back and forth for what seemed like hours, Sam got the impression that this wasn’t the first time that Tegan had cheated on her.

She even went so far as to suggest that Sam try to find someone herself, pitching an open relationship like it was the solution to their problems. Needless to say, they had broken up, and it got ugly.

Sam reported Tegan to the ethics board, and not because she was jealous, but because she fully disapproved of her abuse of power.

She really didn’t understand how her ex could take advantage of her position in that way.

Looking back, she realized that she and Tegan had been over for a long time. Tiffani was just the icing on the cake.

“Hit me,” she said, holding out her mostly empty cup. “I need a refill.”

“You and me both.” Jordan looked around before reaching inside his jacket pocket to pull out a small water bottle. He twisted the cap off and surreptitiously tilted some into Sam’s soda cup. She also scoped out the scene, providing cover, as he put the lid back on and took a sip.

“Damn, that’s good. Remind me to thank whoever invented vodka.”

“I think it was some tsar in Russia. He’s dead now.”

“No doubt,” Sam mused. She shook her head. “Probably drank himself to death after finding that his partner was cheating on him with some young hussy.” It might have been the booze, but they both cracked up so hard that people craned their necks to look at them. Sam didn’t care.

Jordan and Sam spent the next several minutes watching the court in silence.

Sam looked around the gym, flooded with memories.

The last time she had set foot on that court had been over fifteen years ago.

Damn, had it really been that long? Sam shook her head.

She was one of the now infamous Six, a starting group of all seniors who had led the Hornets all the way to the state semifinals in volleyball.

Usually, that wouldn’t have garnered much attention, but volleyball was a relatively new sport at the time at Hicksville High.

The Six had been first-year students when it debuted.

They had been through a lot together in those four years.

Sam smiled, remembering winning the sectionals trophy right there on the court below them.

Few other feelings had matched that one in the time since.

“Were those the glory days?” Her eyes moved away from the court and found Jordan’s. “Is that as good as it’s going to get?”

He sighed and pulled her in for a hug. “Maybe for you. For me, they were the worst days of my life. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” He stared wistfully out over the court.

“I know,” Sam said softly. She reached for his hand. “I know it wasn’t easy on you. This town can be unforgiving.”

Jordan just shook his head sadly. “There ain’t no love lost here.”

“It means a lot that you’re here for me, you know?” Sam squeezed his hand and placed her head on his shoulder.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

“I know,” she replied softly.

“But you never did answer my question—again, what are we doing here?”

“Coach Stevens asked me to come. She heard that I was back in town and wanted me to take a look at the girls…”

Jordan shot her a grin. “Coach Stevens would be one way to get back at Tegan…”

Sam punched him on the shoulder again, but harder this time. “No way! Not like that. That is just plain wrong and gross. Is your mind always in the gutter?”

“Pretty much,” they both answered at the same time.

“I think Coach was trying to distract me,” Sam said. “She knows how hard these last few months have been. And that coming home wouldn’t be easy. I think she thought volleyball would be a nice distraction.”

“Or she just wanted your help, being one of the infamous Six and all.”

Sam shook off the comment with a shrug. Small towns were more than a little bit annoying.

Everyone knew who you were. Not only that, but they knew everything there was to know about you, your family, your family’s family…

even your pet had no secrets. Well, very few secrets anyway.

Here, everyone took credit for what you became, whether they had anything to do with it or not.

And more than likely, it was not. Tonight alone, about five people had stopped Sam to reminisce about the good old days, to talk about the Six, or just to ask random questions about college or her life now.

Mostly, though, they wanted to offer their condolences.

Sam knew they meant well, but it was exhausting…

hence the vodka. And because of all the vodka and soda, now she had to pee.

She debated getting up, wondering how many times she would be stopped before she made it to the ladies’ room.

“Ah…Sam?” Jordan’s questioning tone interrupted her train of thought.

“Ah…yeah, Jordan?”

“You’re not going to like this, but I think Alex Weaver just walked in the door.”

Alexandra Weaver. Of all the people, what were the fucking chances? Sam’s head swiveled from left to right as she inadvertently sank lower into the bleachers.

“What?” It came out as a whisper. “Where?” She peeked around Jordan’s shoulder to look toward the gymnasium door.

Her heart stopped, and her breath hitched in her chest. She felt hot.

Jordan wasn’t wrong. It most definitely was Alex Weaver.

She was making her way up the bleachers with someone who looked like it could be her mother, but Sam couldn’t tell from her slouched vantage point.

Great. Alex and Nadine Weaver. The night was just getting better.

Tagging along behind them was a young girl with long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. That’s right, Alex has a daughter.