Page 5 of Cruel Start

I pushed out a weary breath and tried to appear sad, rubbing a hand over my forehead and hanging my head. “He doesn’t want to see anyone. Well, he can’t anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” Her shoulders bunched, and she leaned forward slightly.

I could tell she was going to shove me to the side, or try to, if I didn’t put a fast stop to it. “He’s not doing well. The injury is bad. At the very least he’ll redshirt this season. That is, if he can play again.”

“You’re lying.” But she eased back, her brow scrunched. “It was just a hit. He takes them on the field all the time.”

“Yeah, but not against guys the size of the tank that almost tore his arm off. Well, he did tear something, and it may not be operable. If they can’t do anything for him, he’ll go to PT and try to get the most mobility he can from it. After… well, I don’t know what to say. I shouldn’t even be telling you this. He didn’t want you to know. Said to tell you he’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to see him.” She stepped to the side.

I’d mirrored her move. “You can’t. The doc gave him something to knock him out. The pain’s bad. And he didn’t want you to see him like this.”

A flash of sunlight temporarily blinded me, bringing me back to the present. After blinking the spots from my eyes, I saw a car had pulled into the driveway—and specifically who owned that car as they walked toward the front door.Shit, that’s Tracey.I jumped out of my seat and went to the door, yanking it open before she had a chance to ring the bell.

The bitch wasn’t getting in. I would do whatever it took to protect my brother, even if he blamed me later when he inevitably found out. Because that was the thing with secrets. They never stayed buried where they should.Still worth it.

“Hey, Trace.” I injected a note of remorse into my voice, softening it to throw her off-balance.

“Get out of my way, Phoenix.” She pulled her ponytail forward to hang over her chest in a flow of golden blond. “I’m here to see Shane.”

That was the annoying she-devil’s catchphrase.

“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing cautiously over my shoulder and inside the house. “That’s the thing. He’s not doing great, and I’m not sure you should be here right now. It’ll only make things worse.”

Her head jerked back, and she tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean? He said he was fine.”

“Remember I told you he’d say that?”

She frowned, and I pushed ahead with the lie.

“Look, he got some horrible news from the doc.”

“Is he out the season?” Red infused her cheeks, and her hands curled into fists as she stepped closer. “This is all your fault.”

“How’s that? I’m not the one who hit him.”Where did she get her logic?

“You threw him the ball when that tree trunk of a man was right there. You wanted him to get hurt so you could be the star and have all the attention from the coach and get picked for an NFL team over him.” She crossed her arms over her fake tits. “I told him you would pull something like this.”

She was off her rocker. When she took another step forward, I held out my hand, palm up. I couldn’t let her inside, and no way was I going to address her brand of crazy. It would only get worse if I fed into it. I would be the first to admit that winding her up could be fun as hell but not when I wanted her to leave quickly.

“The doc said Shane’s pro career was over before it started. The damage to his shoulder is too extensive to be repaired.”

“Ah.” She took a half step back, her mouth hanging open. Seconds ticked by. “I thought he had PT. Are they sure?”

“Yeah, he does, but it won’t change things. And he’s in a shit mood, but—”

A calculating gleam flashed in her baby blues, giving a glimpse into her dark soul before she whirled around, not even waiting for me to finish. A second later, she was in her car, pulling out of the driveway and onto the road. Once her car was out of sight, I let loose the laughter I’d been holding in.

He’ll forgive me… eventually.If he never found out, all the better. But otherwise, I hoped he learned about it much later and after he’d had someone else underneath him.

I went back inside, finished my homework, then pounded on Shane’s door, yelling at him to watch the game. I needed to keep him busy and his mind far from calling Tracey. The music shut off, and soon, we were both settled on the couch in front of our aging TV. Halfway through the game, he got a text.

“Motherfucker.” Shane launched his phone across the room. It hit the wall with an ominousthump.

“What world-ending news did you just get?” Seriously, his theatrics lately were getting on my last nerve. But I was trying. If I lost football, or even half a season, I knew I would go crazy too.

“That was Tracey.” Shane’s voice cracked, and I sat up straight. “She broke up with me.”

---