Chapter 28
Landon
Junior Year - June
I avoid eye-contact with everyone in the locker room.
I got here early so I could change before the guys came in. Don’t need anyone questioning the bruising on my ribs. I wrapped myself as tight as I could, and I have the pads to protect me.
I just have to make it through this game.
One game.
I can do this.
Patrick claps me on the back, and I swallow down an agonizing groan. “Scouts are coming today. You ready?”
“Of course.” I nod once. “Been ready.”
I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.
The assistant coach from the UCLA men’s lacrosse team will be in the stands.
For me.
This is the moment my life changes forever.
Dad knew this, which is why he made sure to go extra hard on me today. I should’ve grabbed dinner somewhere near school instead of going home. Should’ve told him I was going to the library to study. But Mom was excited to cook my favorite meal before the big game. I couldn’t let her down.
I push off the bench, and my ribs scream in protest, but I swallow the pain. Bury it deep.
I’ll play my best no matter how much it hurts.
That asshole won’t take this away from me.
I step out of the locker room, and Ainsley leans against the wall, spinning her stick in her hands, waiting for me like she always does.
Things between us have been strained ever since she joined the team.
Neither of us will admit it, ignoring the tension, and not talking about the growing tension.
She tosses out snide remarks about me not being able to handle having a girl on my team, but it’s not that.
It’s the fact that she’s my girl, taking hits and getting roughed up by guys twice her size.
And maybe it’s a little bit of jealousy.
Not that I’d ever tell her that.
She has this natural ability. Raw talent. And she doesn’t want to do anything with it. Lacrosse stops for her after high school. Yet the scouts have been pouring out to see her, trying to convince her to play for their teams.
Ainsley thinks I’ve been mad because she’s outshining me. But she can outshine me all she wants. She’s an incredible player, and should be recognized for it.
It’s not about outshining me. I just don’t want to be overlooked.
But UCLA is here for me today.
This is my moment.
Ainsley’s eyes narrow as soon as she spots me exiting the locker room. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I avert my gaze to the field as we make our way over.
“You’re limping. You’re hurt.”
“I’m good,” I lie. “Just nervous.”
She’s quiet, side-eyeing me as we walk. “You’re going to do great today. You’ll get a full ride to California, and then you can leave this place behind.”
I stop and turn to face her. “You know that’s not why I’m leaving.”
It’s not this place I want to leave. It’s him.
“I know.” She slips her arms around my waist and pulls me in for a hug. “I’m sorry I said it like that.”
I grunt as her grip around me tightens. My torso throbs and sweat beads at the back of my neck as a wave of nausea assaults my stomach.
Ainsley pulls back. “Are you okay?”
I nod, swallowing down the bile in my throat. “I think it’s something I ate. I’ll be fine—”
She rips up my jersey and I jerk back, but not quick enough. “What the hell is that? You’re all wrapped up.”
I adjust my jersey and start walking toward the field. “I said it’s nothing.”
My head spins, tiny little specs blurring my vision. I stumble.
Ainsley grips my forearm. “Landon, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
“I just need to get through this game, and then I’ll be good.” I lock eyes with her. “Please, just leave it alone.”
“You can’t even stand up straight.” Her eyes widen and her lips part, and I see the recognition click into place. “He fucking hurt you.”
I smash my knuckles into my palms, cracking them to relieve the tension coiling inside me. “Nothing new.”
“You can’t play like this.”
Anger spikes in my veins. “Yes, I can. And I will.”
“One hit and you’ll be out. You really want the scouts seeing you like this?”
“Just mind your business.” I push my legs to move faster, heading through the gate and onto the field.
I scan the bleachers. There in the front row, the UCLA logo on his polo shirt catches my attention.
“Mind my business? Are you serious?” Ainsley’s long strides match mine. “You could get seriously hurt today, worse than you already are.”
Coach blows the whistle as the team huddles around him at the bench.
I shoot Ainsley a warning glare. “I’ve got this.”
I have to.
The first quarter of the game, I’m fast as lightning.
Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.
I manage to cut and dodge the defenders, burying each shot I take into the back of the goal. The crowd erupts louder each time the net snaps behind the goalie. We’re up 5-0 and making it look easy.
In the second quarter, everything falls apart.
I get blindsided by an illegal hit, and a stick drives straight into my ribs. I crash onto the turf with the other player on top of me.
White-hot pain explodes through me, and my vision goes fuzzy.
Ainsley rushes over and helps me up as I push off the ground. “Fuck, are you okay?”
You’re fine.
It’s fine.
Walk it off.
I can’t look her in the eyes. “I’m good.”
And I keep playing.
During the next play, Ainsley dives in front of me and snatches the pass aimed for me. She takes off running like she’s shot out of a cannon, and slams the ball into the back of the net.
“What the hell was that?” I yell, half-running, half-limping over to her.
“If you don’t give a shit about yourself, then at least care about your team. You playing injured isn’t good for the team.”
My chin jerks back like she slapped me. “We’re up six-nothing. And you know the reason I’m playing right now.”
The ref blows the whistle and we take our places at the line, glaring at one another when we should be focusing our anger on the opposing team.
Ainsley and I fight for possession of the ball.
“Pass it, I’m open!” she yells.
“Mine!” I call to my teammates.
But Ainsley is fast as hell, and she manages to scoop up a ground ball on the run, taking it to the other team’s goal. The defenders are all over her, and the goalie is ready, anticipating her next move.
“Pass it,” I demand. But I’m barely in the spot I need to be, unable to keep up with the pace.
She spins around one defender and dodges the other, slipping between them both. Her footwork is insane, and the crowd is on their feet as they scream.
Ainsley sinks the ball into the net.
Fuck.
It’s halftime, and Coach calls us to the sidelines. Everyone takes a knee around him. I clutch my side as I let an audible groan slip from my lips.
Ainsley catches my weight as I collapse onto the turf.
“What the hell is going on?” Coach says.
“Nothing.”
“He’s hurt,” Ainsley says.
“No, I’m not.” I give her a menacing stare. “Don’t ruin this for me.”
“You’re ruining it for yourself!” She rips off her helmet and turns to Coach. “He’s playing with an injury. I don’t know how bad it is, but he’s not okay.”
My stomach roils, churning with a mixture of anger and fear.
Coach’s eyebrows jump. “What’s wrong, Fletcher?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” The players in front of me blend together, and I blink to clear my vision but it doesn’t help. I sway on my feet.
“You have to pull him.”
My head snaps to Ainsley. “Fuck no.”
Coach gives me a hard stare. “The scouts can always come back another day.”
“But this is the playoffs.” There might not be another game. Tears burn at the backs of my eyes. “I know I can do this. I’ve already come this far. Please.”
My teammates glance at one another in silence.
I cut my glance to Ainsley. “You asked me this season to trust you, that you can handle yourself on the field. Why won’t you give me that same respect?”
“Because you’re already hurt, Landon. This is different. And playing could make it worse. I don’t want you to end up in the hospital.”
“What happened?” Coach asks. “Did you twist your ankle or something?”
I clear my throat, not willing to tell anyone the truth. “I have a bruised rib. It’s not a big deal.”
Ainsley reaches out before I see it coming. She nudges me in the stomach, and I groan as I stagger backward.
“See?” she says. “He can’t afford to take another hit.”
“What is your problem?” I yell, unable to contain my anger any longer. “Are you trying to ruin my chance of getting out of here?” I tilt my head. “Or is it too much for your ego to handle that I’m the one in the spotlight tonight, hmm?”
“Fuck you,” she spits, getting in my face. “I’m just trying to look out for you, and for the team.”
I cough out a bitter laugh. “When have you ever looked out for the team? You’re only in this for yourself.”
“Enough.” Coach’s voice thunders into the air. “Landon, you’re out.”
My eyes fly to his. “Coach, no. I’m fine, I promise. Just let me finish the game.”
“I said you’re out, Fletcher. This isn’t worth prolonging your injury for. Now you can sit on the bench, or get your ass off my field and to a doctor.”
Betrayal burns like acid, coursing through me and burning my veins.
This can’t be happening.
Everything I’ve worked so hard for is just...over.
All because Ainsley couldn’t keep her big mouth shut.
I toss my stick and helmet at Ainsley’s feet.
“Landon,” she starts.
“Enjoy the spotlight.” I spare her one final glance. “Hope it was worth it.”