Page 69 of Break Point

He covered for him, and I’ve always held resentment over that. Resentment toward Bryson, and toward Aaron, if I’m being honest. But taking a step back and hearing the reasons, considering the full picture, I’m starting to realize that not everything is so black and white. There’s a whole lot of gray in the margins.

Aaron reaches for the box of KT Tape and tosses me a roll.

“I say this with love, as your biggest hashtag fan. There is nothing wrong with your arms and legs, Jaden Johnson. Once you figure out your head, you’re going to be lighting opponents up again. Trust.” He gives me a wink before heading back out to the weight room, and I linger for a moment, wondering if he’s right . . . or if what’s wrong with my head is too big for me to fix.

One Week Later

Adrianne has been avoiding me ever since I started showing up for team workouts again. I’ve had my suspicions as to why. I haven’t broached the subject of the gurney photo with her yet, much to Taryn’s chagrin. My roommate really loves to instigate.

Now I need Adrianne, though, so we’re going to have to have it out. I can’t beat her if I’m never playing her, and since she’s still in the locker room just like I am, alone, what better time than the present?

I push my locker shut and kick one leg over the bench so I’m straddling it and staring at her as she works her fingers through her long, brown hair.

“What?” she finally snaps, her hands dropping to her sides as she glares at me.

I stare at her, partially frozen for a moment, then burst into laughter. I wouldn’t classify our relationship as friendly, but I also wouldn’t have considered it hostile. Sure, I was pretty bitter when she bumped me from number one, but she would have felt the same way if the roles were reversed. I’m sure of it. Just like I’m sure she posted that photo of me being wheeled out to an ambulance.

“Gah! Whatever. I’m not doing this with you,” she grumbles, turning her attention back to her hair as she twists it back into a bun.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

She doesn’t react, but I can tell she heard me by the way her lips pucker and her cheeks blush. She’s caught. I’m surprised by the sting that paralyzes my chest.

“Why? What do you gain out of putting a photo of me at my lowest out there for everyone? It’s kind of cruel, Adrianne. You were already number one.”

She slams her locker shut and huffs before facing me.

“I didn’t take the photo! But I knew you would think I did, because that’s how it is with you . . . with us. You get to be the one everyone roots for, and I’m the bad guy. I stole your number one spot. I took advantage of your illness. I’m not good enough to earn the top seed on my own. I had to wait for you to fail to take it. But damn it! Maybe I am good enough. Do I need to sell out my face for some fucking dating app just to get the credit?”

I blink my eyes wide and lean back, my jaw going slack as I try to process everything my teammate just unleashed on me. I had no idea she was harboring so much . . . rage.

“Ahhh!” She presses her palms to her cheeks and paces in a circle before straddling the bench to face me. Her eyes glisten with tears when her gaze hits mine, and suddenly, I feel like an asshole.

“I don’t know who took that photo, Jaden. I talked to Coach about it the moment I saw it, and we think maybe it was someone in the student media box. The angle seemed right, and they clearly zoomed in. I might want to beat you, but I would never do something like that. When you fell down, the way your body just . . . froze. Jaden, I’ll never get that out of my head. I was so scared.”

My chest squeezes, and I fight to keep my own tears down. My parents and Bryson said the same thing about that day, and more than the way I feel about my diagnosis, I’m so sick about how much I terrified those around me. I don’t want people to be afraid for me. It’s not so different from being afraid of me.

I reach forward and take Adrianne’s hands, a gesture that’s awkward for me and something I don’t even do with Taryn. It just seems right, though. And if I took anything away from my chat with Aaron last week, it’s that I need to let people in.

“I’m sorry I accused you.”

Adrianne sniffles as she nods.

“I guess I can kind of understand why you would,” she says, squinting one eye. “We’ve always been adversaries. Not really friends.”

“We should at least be teammates,” I admit. I’m so good at seeing everyone as an enemy.

She shakes our tethered hands and breathes out a soft laugh.

“So as a teammate . . . what would you say to one quick set, just so I can see how far I’ve got to go?” It’s a big ask, especially because Coach put limits on my match play until I pass three months without a seizure. It’s an arbitrary time frame, but I guess it’s better than the year I was fearing. That would have effectively ended my season and made all of this pointless.

Adrianne’s lips curl, and she drops my hands from hers before standing. She smirks.

“I’d say that I’m not going to take it easy on you.”

I smile back.

“Good.”