Page 18 of Side Out

“Jax!” Clay yells from the other side of the court.

“Huh? Yeah. What’s up?”

“I asked if you were ready?”

I look around the gym one more time, before settling on the fact I’m not going to see him today. “Yup. Ready.”

* * *

“Shit,” I grunt as Rocky slams another hit at me. We’re warming up with a simple hitting and receiving drill, and since Rocky doesn’t have a partner, he’s been doing most of the hitting. He’s obviously beyond pissed. Rightfully so. But could he chill the fuck out for five minutes before my arms fall off. “I legitimately think my arms are going to bruise.”

Clay chuckles, and we both get into our ready positions for another hit. “Don’t be such a pansy-ass,” he jabs.

Coach Taylor sets the ball outside. Rocky takes his approach and drills the ball down the line. Clay moves just in time to receive the pass. Except, when it hits his forearms he’s not quite steady on his feet yet, and the force behind Rocky’s hit knocks him on his ass.

I can’t help it. I laugh my ass off as I make my way over to his stunned form. It’s not often a player gets the better of Clay. I’m secure enough in my skills to know that he’s one of the best players I’ve ever seen. But so is Rocky. “Who’s the pansy-ass now?” I ask as I hold out my hand to help my best friend up.

“Shut the hell up,” he grunts.

Despite everything going on outside of volleyball, the one thing I can always count on is for this sport to clear my mind. To make everything seem okay.

Even when I find myself questioning who I am, volleyball helps remind me I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

* * *

Another day, another practice.

But at least today we’re able to get some scrimmaging in. Until now, it’s been nothing but conditioning and drills. And if Coach Taylor made us do one more targeting drill I was going to bury myself in the sand.

Coach has Clay and I scrimmage one of the junior teams. And even though they’re a junior pair, they’re every bit as talented.

They’re on this team for a reason.

Which is why Clay and I are both pouring sweat by the second game of the set.

“Holy fucking shit,” Clay huffs as he wipes his face with his shirt. “I ate too many christmas cookies for this shit.”

“Shut up and set me the ball.” I’m too tired to make jokes, because… same.

One of the juniors serves the ball over the net, and despite its power, it lands perfectly on my forearms. I pass it high to a waiting Clay at the net. I’m already moving by the time Clay quickly sets the ball. Except on my second step my foot slides and my knee buckles. I feel it happen before my body even hits the floor.

The sharp pain reverberates all the way up my hip and back down again. Pulsing so hard I can practically feel it in my teeth.

Fuck.

I lay on the floor, grabbing my knee in pain as I hear Coach Taylor shout for Theo.

God fucking damn it. This cannot be happening.

Clay and Coach Taylor drop to the ground beside me, and the rest of the gym remains silent as I hear a pair of footsteps sprinting across the floor. Theo is beside me just a moment later.

This was supposed to bemyyear.

I feel tears sting my eyes at both the pain in my knee and the thought of everything that is about to be lost. But when Theo places his hand on my arm, and I look up at his sage-green eyes, I manage to take a deep breath.

He’s here. I’m looking at him.

Theo’s here.

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