Page 55 of Break Point

“Hindsight is a luxury,” she mutters, her gaze drifting to the slight space between us. I want to move closer, but I’m still worried she would flinch and put up her guard.

“I’m number two,” she croaks.

I slide my hand along the mattress, moving toward her but stopping in the middle. After a few seconds, she slides her fingers into mine, then lifts her gaze again. I know by the look in her eyes that she’s going to practice. I knew it the moment worry landed in my gut after seeing her on the bathroom floor. She would need to be locked up and chained behind metal bars inside a solid metal room to be prevented from setting foot on a court today.

“Okay.” I give her a blessing to make the wrong choice, and I do it because I know it’s the only word she wants to hear. She needs to hear no, but all that will do is make her dig in her heels and push herself harder. So I choose standing behind her, because at least if I’m there, I can break her fall.

Chapter 20

Jaden

At this point, I think I’m more at risk of a high blood sugar spike than low. Taryn’s been on a mission to ply me with cereal every time she comes across an empty bowl and spoon. For the last two weeks I’ve done nothing but fill my belly with carbs, protein, and various frosted bits to keep my sugar up. All of this based on zero expert advice. It’s simply what my best friend thinks will help.

Bryson, on the other hand, has been flooding me with water. He bought a set of water bottles, and he’s somehow managed to meet me between all my classes to swap out my empty water bottle with a nice, chilled full one. I don’t have the heart to tell him, but I’ve started watering the planters in the finance wing. I’m waterlogged.

“I know this is going to be a shock for you to hear, but I don’t think I like magic marshmallows anymore.” I nudge the half-eaten bowl toward the center of our coffee table and watch the rainbow milk swirl like a pinwheel.

“Bite your tongue! It’s not the marshmallows’ fault!” Taryn rolls over the back of our sofa and pulls the bowl toward her, tipping it back and drinking the sugary milk.

“I really am fine. My energy is up at practice. I’m sleeping well. I feel stronger. I’m challenging Adrianne next week and getting number one back. I feel good.” I flex my bicep to show off my strength, and Taryn swats at me with one of our throw pillows.

“You’re ridiculous. And I never realized you weren’t number one. News to me.” She shrugs as she gets up from the couch and carries the now-empty cereal bowl to our sink.

“I love you for pretending I’m perfect. You’re a good friend,” I say.

“Bitch, you ain’t perfect,” she laughs out. “But you are a fucking badass. And we will never acknowledge you as anything less than number one in this house. Got it?”

I hold her gaze for a beat, then nod.

“Got it.”

My parents are in town for my tournament today. My brother is here, too, and I think the only reason he tagged along was that he learned his sister is dating the Storm quarterback. Beck is going to be so disappointed—Bryson’s on the road. I suppose if I don’t go the distance in match play, the one perk is I’ll be done in time to catch his fourth quarter against Washington Poly Tech. It’s supposed to be a tough game, though I’ve looked up some highlights from the other team. I don’t think they’ll be able to contain Bryson. He’s faster than other coaches give him credit for. In fact, he’s faster than he gives himself credit for. He’s a far cry from the freshman braggart I met three years ago, but he’s twice the player he was back then. And here I am, half the player I was . . . apparently.

“You ready to hit the courts?” I’ve been dressed and ready for an hour. I slept alone last night, the first in maybe a dozen days, because Bryson had to travel with the team. I love having him with me. I love the things we do, and the warmth of his body as he runs his hand through my hair when I’m falling asleep. But I have missed stretching my body in all different directions and flopping around like a menace while I sleep. Last night was the first time in days I’ve slept all the way through the night, my mind no longer consumed with making sure I don’t disturb Bryson. I feel refreshed. I also feel ready to win.

“I really want that doubles trophy today. It’s black and gold, have you seen it? Can we win it? Please?” Taryn holds her phone out for me as she swings her gear bag over her other shoulder. I glance at the image of the sculpture depicting two women tennis players swinging hard above a net. As far as trophies go, she’s right—this one’s pretty awesome.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I laugh out, handing her back her phone.

She claps as we head out the door. I’m sure we’ll win our bracket this morning. I’ve scoped out the competition, mostly because I wanted to see who I would be paired up against as a second seed. I think Taryn and I can win our matches blindfolded. Hell, I might just be able to play that way for the weekend.

I miss being number one.

After an hour of warm-ups and stretching, I’m stuck with a bye round for my first match of the day. The team Taryn and I are paired against first doesn’t field doubles, so we get the team points automatically. Just sitting around, though, makes me restless, so I head into the stands to at least get some time with my parents. Beck spots me walking along the long row of bleachers first and instantly leaps to his feet, rushing toward me with binoculars dangling from a strap around his neck.

“Where’s Bryson?” He asks for my boyfriend before giving me a hug. I think he’s my boyfriend now. It’s what I told my family because, frankly, it’s a lot easier than trying to walk my parents through the app situation again. Besides, I’m pretty sure once you’ve seen someone naked, it’s official. At least, it is for me.

“Aww, I thought Mom and Dad told you. Bryson’s out of town for the game. They’re away today.”

My brother’s posture crumples.

“Damn,” he mutters, a word my mom doesn’t care for but that he gets away with around me and Dad.

“You’ll meet him next time,” I say, holding out an arm to give him a hug. He waves it away, though. Having just turned twelve, it seems he’s entered his big ego phase.

“Pssh, man. Now I have to watch tennis,” he whines, spinning on one foot and moping his way back toward our parents.

I laugh silently to myself, then follow his path. My parents greet me with actual hugs, and it feels nice to have both of their arms wrap around my body. I don’t get homesick often, but I’ve been feeling it a little lately.