Page 35 of A Surefire Love
His cheeks were splotchy from the workout, so it was hard to tell if he flushed at the question. “No.”
“Then help me understand where you’re coming from.”
Carter shook his head.
Anson made another drive for the net. Carter moved in to steal the ball and rammed his elbow into Anson’s cheek. Pain fired from the point of contact. He raised his arms, stopping the game as he blinked to clear his vision. He ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek and tasted blood.
Carter cringed. “Sorry.”
“You were meant for more than this, Carter.”
“Like what?”
“Kids follow your lead. That charisma is a gift from God. He had a reason for giving it to you, and it wasn’t so you’d host parties on youth group trips.”
“You’re gonna say it’s for youth group?”
“Maybe. But I also hope you’ll lead the team to state this year.”
Carter scoffed. “Is this about God or not? Because no way He cares about basketball.”
“‘So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.’” Anson paused to let the Bible verse sink in. “If we can eat or drink for His glory, we can play basketball for it. Sports teach us discipline, teamwork, and our own limitations. If we let God work with us through that process, powerful things happen.”
“Like we win state?”
“Like whether we win or not, we can be fulfilled. God does that—not championships, not scholarships, and definitely not underage drinking.”
Carter turned his face away.
Anson shot up a prayer for wisdom. “You’re not invincible. Alcohol can make mundane circumstances dangerous. Take the canoe trip. What if you’d fallen in the water? I know from experience that it’s disorienting to be dumped into the water, and swimming fully clothed in a current is challenging enough. You stumbled as you walked, and you weren’t wearing your life vest.”
“I would’ve been fine.”
“That’s what people tell themselves, but trust me. They’re not always fine.” When Anson had told Gury to be careful, he’d laughed. That was Anson’s last memory of him.
Carter should know.
Anson hated reliving the story, hated his part in it. If logic wasn’t enough to reach Carter, why would sharing about Gury change anything?
Carter studied him for a long moment. The overhead fans hummed. Laughing kids ran past the door. The prompt to share about Gury might’ve come from God. Anson’s mouth went dry.
Carter rolled his eyes. “That’s why you’re worried aboutme. You think I’m going to die, and you don’t think I’m going to heaven.”
Anson steadied himself with a slow breath. “I wouldn’t want to walk through life or death without Jesus. I don’t wish that on you either.”
Carter shrugged, then his mouth tightened. “Sorry about your face.”
Anson chuckled. “Looks that bad?”
“Nah. A little red.”
Anson touched the tender spot. Warm, but superficial. It probably wouldn’t even bruise, though he’d be biting the raised spot inside his cheek for a week. “I’ll survive. Just promise to think about what I said.”
Another shrug.
Pushing harder would get nowhere. Anson retrieved the ball from where it’d settled against the wall, restarted the game, and left the rest to the Lord.
“Remember,it’s possible—likely, even—that we’ll have to try more than one medication and dosage before we find the right fit. Be sure to reach out if any side effects become too problematic.” The doctor, a smartly dressed woman in her fifties, spared Mercy a sympathetic smile before passing Blaze yet another print-off. “Do you have any questions before you go?”
