Page 70 of Break Point

I’ve been playing against Adrianne on the down-low for a week, and I have yet to take a single game. She said she wouldn’t take it easy on me, but I can tell she is. While I don’t think my ego can handle her returning my weak-ass serve at 100 percent, maybe that’s the final nail I need to put this fantasy to bed.

My arm feels like a wet log as I hoist it over my head and swing through the ball for my final serve of the set. I manage to stretch our volley into a dozen cross-court shots before I hit the ball into the net.

“Fuck!” I throw my racket at the empty umpire’s chair, and some of the hot-pink paint on the head chips off.

“It’s just stamina. You’ll get there,” Adrianne says. She picks up my racket and hands it to me on our way to the bench.

I guzzle down the rest of my water, then shake my head. If anything, I feel like I’m backsliding. I can’t seem to get past the fatigue. I haven’t said the words out loud yet, because once I do, I’m going to have to really accept it—but I think I might be done. And if I’m done with tennis, what the hell am I going to do with my life?

“Again?” I sniffle as I stand, shrugging off the exhaustion that’s begging me to just stop.

Adrianne tilts her head and stares at me the way my mother would if she were here.

“I know. I should rest.” I plop back onto the bench, kicking my gear bag. A loose ball slips out of the open zipper and rolls toward the net. “That’s probably where I would have hit it anyway.”

Adrianne doesn’t laugh, and I’m glad she knows I’m not being funny. Nothing about me is fun lately. I don’t know why Bryson hasn’t bailed on me by now. I can’t imagine I’m easy to be around. Taryn has said so, multiple times. I can feel myself giving up, and it’s getting harder to fight the urge.

Chapter 26

Bryson

“Dude, I haven’t seen you in weeks. If we didn’t play football together, I swear I’d think you dropped off the face of the planet.” Ashton slams his locker shut next to mine, then slings his bag over his shoulder.

“We’re roommates. You’re being dramatic.” I laugh, slipping my shoulder pads over my head and hoisting them into my locker.

“Are we? Roommates? You don’t even live at our place, man.”

Ashton’s not completely wrong. My stuff lives at our place, at least, half of it does. But I’ve been at Jaden’s every spare minute for the last week. She’s depressed, even though she won’t let me label it. She pulled back from practices again. And she doesn’t seem to have a plan for going back. At least, not one she’s willing to talk to me about. I fall back on my ass and exhale before meeting Ashton’s gaze.

“I know I’ve been spending a lot of nights at Jaden’s—”

“All the nights,” he says, punctuating it with a snarky laugh.

I roll my neck, trying to evade the bristly way his tone makes me feel. When I meet his gaze again, I catch what better be a slight hint of guilt pulling his mouth tight on one side.

“We’re going to Slices tonight. Amelia needs to get some new content, and I was hoping that maybe if I can talk Jaden into a game of cornhole or darts or something that she’ll feel that competitive itch again. You know, let her write the caption and take a jab at football players. That always lifts her spirits. Might help to have a fellow instigator tag along.” I stare at my friend with a slight pleading look, and he chews at the inside of his cheek. I think he’s considering it.

“You know this isn’t like you blowing your shoulder out, right?”

I flinch at his response.

“Yeah,” I huff. “I know that.”

Ashton shakes his head and looks at the floor.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to come,” I bite back, standing and snagging my clean T-shirt from my locker. I swap out the sweat-soaked one from practice, then grab my sweatpants and do the same.

“I’ll come. But I’m being real with you, Bry.” His heavy hand lands on one shoulder, so I freeze and take in a deep breath, so I don’t simply react.

I’m sure he thinks I’m just being defensive, but I know that what Jaden is going through is different from my injury. I also know that nobody gets what she’s missing quite the way I do, at least not in her world. Taryn isn’t at Jaden’s level, and I don’t get the sense that her world would end if she suddenly couldn’t play tennis again. And that’s the thing. In Jaden’s mind, she’s done. She doesn’t see the path forward, but she’s also stopped looking.

“Don’t come unless you’re going to help,” I say, swiveling my head to meet his concerned expression.

“Same goes for you, then,” he says, patting his hand on my shoulder once, then leaving me alone with my own angry thoughts.

I grab one of my sneakers from my locker, but when I can’t undo the knot in the laces, I toss it back inside. The bang echoes throughout the empty locker room. I’m the last guy in here, so at least nobody can see me give in to the frustration. I growl, letting that sound reverberate around the tiled floors and shower stalls.

“Fuck!” I slam my locker door shut, but it only bounces back open.