Page 125 of Double Fault

Helplessness was my constant companion when Annie was battling cancer. If I could avoid spending another second in that damn feeling’s company, I would.

At a loss for what to do to ease his suffering, I grab a water bottle from his cooler and crack the lid. He takes it gratefully and sips slowly, his eyes smashed shut. As he lowers the bottle, he peers up at me. The pain radiating from him tells me he knows this is bad.

The umpire calls a medical timeout, and Elias is carried to his training room so he can be examined. I drop into my chair and sip my own water, then force myself to take a few bites of banana.

Several minutes later, when we haven’t received news, I get up, unable to sit still and knowing that if he comes back, I need to be ready to go. It’s futile, though. My gut tells me he’s done for now. An injury to the knee like that can be overcome, though it’s usually not worth the risk of making it worse.

Eventually, we’re told that Elias has to retire from the game.

I hang my head and let out a silent curse. I wanted to go to the final, no doubt about that, but not like this.

Chest tight with dread, I gather my stuff up and step aside for my on-court interviews.

“Noah.” A microphone is shoved my way. “How are you feeling?”

I rub the back of my neck and survey my surroundings. “Terrible, honestly. None of us likes to see another injured. I hope it’s nothing too serious and Elias can recover quickly. But I’m certainly looking forward to the final.”

“You already have one Wimbledon win under your belt. How confident are you that you can pull off another?”

I shrug. “It’s impossible to predict what’s going to happen out on the court. Today’s instance is a perfect example of that. But I’ve been training hard and running more, so I’m feeling good.”

When the interview is over, I heft my bag over my shoulder and wave to the crowd. A few people boo, but I don’t let them get to me. It’s not my fault Elias got injured.

Since I’m heading into the final, it means I have a few more interviews before I can hit the showers and meet with my team.

“Is Elias still here?” I ask Fisher as we walk out of our designated training room.

He shakes his head. “No, he was taken to the hospital.”

My stomach bottoms out. “Fuck. That bad, huh?”

Fisher nods solemnly. “Nothing he can’t recover from, but he’ll be out for a while.”

I shake my head. At the level we’re playing at, a full recovery will be a challenge. Injuries bad enough to send a pro athlete to the hospital tend to remain their weak spots for the rest of their careers.

“My guess is he’ll have surgery as soon as possible.”

With a grunt, I rub a hand over my jaw. “Jeez.”

“I know.” Wetting his lips, he peers at Ebba, who’s striding toward us. “Hey,” he says to her. “How are you?”

She stumbles for a moment before catching herself. “I’m okay.” Her tone is softer than usual, and if I’m not mistaken, she’s drinking Fisher in.

Breath held, I look back and forth between them. Sabrina asked about the two of them but didn’t elaborate. Does she know something I don’t?

“Keep us updated on your brother. Okay?” He reaches out like he wants to touch her. At the last second, though, he drops his arm to his side.

“I will.” She forces a smile. “See you around, Noah. Good luck if I don’t see you before your game.”

I nod, lips pressed together. “Thanks. I hope Elias has an easy recovery.”

“Me too.”

With that, she speed-walks away from us. It’s a massive feat considering how high her heels are.

When she steps out of the building, I smack Fisher’s chest with the back of my hand. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” He throws his arms out, the move so wild I’m shocked I don’t catch a stray hand to the face.

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