Page 55 of Full Court Love
I chuckle bitterly. “What exactly do you think is happening right now?”
He meets my eyes again, his face betraying the torment inside.
“I would rather have to bear the sacrifice of not being with you and hurting you now than ruin the rest of your life. You saw my dad. If he doesn’t succeed in bleeding you dry, you must know that his example is all I’ve ever seen. A sad, depressed man in a broken marriage. That’s the blueprint I’ve been given.”
My eyes are downturned. I can’t look at him. The tears are forming a puddle on the blanket in front of me. “But that isn’t you. I know you.”
“I can’t protect you from this.” His voice breaks, but he forces the words out. “All I want to do is make you happy and keep you safe. This is the only way I can guarantee that happens.”
As I look up at him, my sadness morphs back into anger.
“Guarantee? Do you think there are any guarantees at all in this life? Do you think we are ever fully immune to suffering? I can tell you firsthand, that is not the case.”
I have a flashback to my dad’s funeral. The pain, the longing. Watching my mom’s heart shatter as she held his hand one last time.
We can’t guarantee a damn thing.
All we can do is hold on to the moment. Hold on to the people who are right in front of us while they’re still there.
So how dare he take away the happiness we could share? And the love? How dare he not let me love him like I want to?
I stand up. My words are quiet, but my tone is dripping with fury.
“I think you’re a coward. You’re terrified to have something good that you might lose. You’re terrified to stand up to your dad. And you’re terrified that even if I stay now, one day I might decide you aren’t worth it. So rather than risk anything, you’ve decided to run away and hide.”
I’m at the door now. I turn back one last time, praying he’ll beg me to stay or hold me one more time.
Praying he’ll show me that he’s willing to fight for us.
But he’s just sitting there, staring out the window, like a depressed statue.
So, I leave quietly.
The rest of my day flashes by in a blur. I don’t remember getting home or eating or much of anything. I do know that Taylor Swift comforts me as only she can. All my roommates are out of town for their various sports–the track team is training in California, volleyball is playing in a spring tournament in Texas, and soccer has a game in Maryland.
This means I can blast music so loud that it drowns out my thoughts because I can’t deal with those right now. Tomorrow is too big a game.
When game day inevitably comes, I playI Can Do It with a Broken Hearton repeat through my earbuds. Normally I would chat with my teammates in the locker room, but I might slap Sasha across the face if she says even one word to me.
It’s hard not to blame her for everything that’s gone down.
I know Jordan made the call, but she broke an agreementin order to force us into a corner. I guess I blame them both. The two people who’ve ruined my life. I never would’ve thought I’d associate Jordan with that snake, but here we are.
Jacey taps my shoulder, and I remove an earbud.
“Hey, Lucy, is everything okay? You’re unnaturally quiet.”
I take a deep breath, about to give her the gist of the breakup, when Sasha saunters over. Apparently someone was eavesdropping.
“Yeah, girl, are you good? Looking a little tired. And have you been crying? Oh, no. What happened?”
Her smirk is thinly veiled. Finally, her conniving has paid off and her plan worked. Unfortunately for her, there’s one consequence she might not have foreseen: nice little “turn-the-other-cheek” Lucy is currently on vacation. I give her a smile that I can only imagine makes me look like a serial killer.
My tone is low, but the whole locker room seems to be paying attention.
Good.
“Here’s the thing, Sasha. You would probably do well never to speak to me again.”