Page 45 of Wicked Player

It was the offseason that made you better during the season. The training and work you put in when no one was looking that created your biggest improvement. I learned that from my Pop Warner coach when I was ten. It was still advice I lived by and believed accurate.

But even after the grueling workout followed by a rest in the sauna, my second protein-rich meal of the day delivered courtesy of a local company who focused on meal prep delivery meals for athletes in the area, I still had too much rushing through my body.

Too much distraction thinking of Elizabeth. Too much anger thinking of Beaux’s parting words. Too much guilt thinking of Harrison and what he never had. Too much of every damn thing.

Which was why I figured a stop to the children’s hospital would settle me down. Nothing made you more thankful for everything you had regardless of the sacrifice it took to get there than wandering rooms and talking to children who might not ever leave the depressing looking rooms.

I took my time, hitting up as many rooms as possible. I dropped off signed footballs, a few stocking caps for the patients who were losing or would soon lose their hair from treatments. A few fleece blankets for smaller children to hug while they slept and more than a half-dozen signed jerseys for the pre-teens and teenagers who were too old for hats and blankies.

By the time I hit Brandon’s room, my focus was more settled, my mind back in the right frame.

Beaux was wrong. He knew nothing of what I’d lived. He lost his mom, but he was a teenager, not the little kid who grew up being forced to wash his hands and use disinfectant every time he came in from outside or wearing a face mask to school so I didn’t catch the flu or other common viruses and pass it to Harrison. He didn’t know the microscope I lived under, being the small town pastor’s ‘surviving’ child…not the son. Not the kid. The surviving one.

Like last week when I saw Brandon, I peeked inside the window, expecting to see him sleeping, his pale and sunken in cheeks looking more ashen than pink.

Instead, his mouth was wide open, throwing back a laugh and on the bed, his hands were animated. He paused, coughed into a bony fist, and then continued, excitedly telling a story.

He was doing better. Which means as I opened his door without knocking, I expected to see Penny be the object of his fascinating story.

But all I saw was that familiar haze of red in my vision.

Damn her.

Why was she suddenly taking over and invading every damn aspect of my life?

Fifteen

Elizabeth

Brandon’s laugh was scratchy, but there was something so beautiful about it at the same time. His joy still shined through the hoarseness.

“They really tried to do that?” He threw his hands to his face and dropped it, his bony shoulders shaking.

"Yup. They also learned that Mr. Gardner was a really good shot with the shotgun."

He tossed those same hands into the air and his mouth dropped. "He shot your brothers?”

"He shot at them—”

I was immediately cut off. The door opened forcefully grabbing both my attention and Brandon’s. Gage stood in the doorway and if I’d been reading wearing a red cape, he would have charged at me with horns lowered. His fury for me was unmistakable.

He let go of the handle and stepped into the room. Skewering me with a glare that froze me to my spot, he shifted his gaze to Brandon and grinned. "Hey little man, how are you doing today?"

Brandon's eyes slid from Gage to me and back again. Shrugging, he said, "I'm okay. Ms. Hayes was just telling me a story about how her brothers tried to jump on a bunch of cows and ride them like horses."

“Is that right?” He didn’t glance back at me. In an instant, he managed to dismiss me. Gage pulled up the chair I had been sitting on before I became animated with my story, and sat down on it next to Brandon's side of the bed.

"How about you tell me that story," he said. He was speaking to Brandon, not me and irritation spiked. Sure, I’d only met Brandon because I followed Gage last week, but I still felt a lump in my throat when I left the hospital without saying hi to him. I’d left quickly after Gage had turned and hurried out of the room, mumbling to Jason I had all I needed. And I’d been so caught up in the story afterward, apologizing to Jason over his cursed mumblings about my strange behavior, I’d been too upset to go say hi.

But today, I’d stopped by just to see Penny and Brandon and when I arrived and Brandon was sleeping, I sent Penny down to the cafeteria.

I hadn’t expected Gage to be there at all. Now, with the way he was ignoring me, shifting his back to me and giving Brandon his full attention, I almost wished I never would have come.

His actions were clear. He wanted me gone. And he wanted me gonenow.

I wasn't a pushover. With three brothers in the house, they’d taught me at an early age how to stand up for myself. They also taught me how to learn when to walk away from a fight. The last thing I wanted to do was fight with Gage or get into any kind of argument with him with Brandon in the room. Besides, his sudden problem with me wasn’t my business.

Although that didn’t explain the stinging pain in my chest as he ignored me.

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