“I understand. We all are, but August getting better is the priority, and the only thing I care about,” my mother says quietly. “Now, I’ll leave you two alone. My husband is on his way. I’ll go meet him.”
The door closes behind her, and Decker looks back to me.
“She’s right, and I’m sorry.” Disappointment and fury wrestle in the look he lays on me. “I feel bad for you, but I’m also so damn angry with you.”
“Not as angry as I am with myself.” I bang the bed with my fist, shaking my head at my own recklessness.
The door opens, and the orthopedic surgeon walks in, Dr. Clive.
“How you feeling, August?” he asks, glancing at the folder in his hands.
“High as a kite. They gave me some painkillers.” I release a heavy sigh and wince at the needles of pain in my leg. “But it still kinda hurts like hell.”
“What are we looking at, Doc?” Decker leans against the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets.
Dr. Clive’s brows lift over the silver rims of his glasses. If the bone jutting from my leg didn’t tell me this can’t be good, the twist of his lips and the reluctance in his eyes do.
“You’ve got a compound fracture, August.” He steps over to the wall, places a film on the mounted X-ray monitor, and points to the image. “You see the break here and here in the tibia and fibula? Good news is that the break is clear. No damage to the nerves, tendons, or ligaments.”
“Why do I feel like there’s bad news, too?” I need to pay attention, but between the drugs and the pain that persists despite them, it’s hard to focus.
“We need to start prepping for surgery right away,” Dr. Clive says. “The bone broke through the skin and has been exposed to air. There’s risk of infection. We need to do immediate intramedullary rodding of the tibia. We’ll place a titanium rod down the center of the tibia and then further stabilize it with small screws in between the rod and the bone above and below the fracture site.”
“A rod?” I tip my head back into the pillow. “Will I have that forever?”
“Yeah, afraid so.” The grim line of Dr. Clive’s mouth eases the smallest bit. “Think of it as another bone, but one that’ll never break.”
“What’s the recovery like on this, Doc?” Decker asks. His frown has grown heavier with every word Dr. Clive speaks.
"Being optimistic, it could take anywhere from six to twelve months to return to fully competitive basketball after something like this.” He pulls the images down and shoves them back in the file. “You’ll be in an Aircast for about two months, August. And, of course, aggressive rehab from there. Most athletes can return to pre-injury levels. It just takes a lot of time and hard work.”
“I’ll be ready for rehab, no matter what it takes,” I assure the doctor, but mostly Decker. I know he’s concerned for me, but basketball is a business, and I’m a commodity—one in which the team has invested a lot of money.
“Let’s get the surgery behind us, and then we can talk about rehab,” Dr. Clive says, walking to the door. “I’m going to prep. We’ll be back for you in twenty minutes or so.”
The prognosis is better than I thought it would be, but I still feel like an idiot. If I could take that last minute back, if I could reconsider rubbing the win in Caleb’s face, I would.
“Look, Deck, I’m sorry.” I force down my shame and regret. “I know it was stupid. I just . . .”
What can I say? Caleb has the girl I want? I jeopardized a thirty-million-dollar contract for a woman who lives with another man, has had his baby, and already turned me down? A woman I’ve only seen four times? If I ever see Iris again, I’ll walk the other way.
Who am I kidding? In that charged moment Iris and I shared tonight, I couldn’t even look away. What makes me think I could walk away from her?
And that makes me a fool so many times over I lose count.
“Just worry about getting through the surgery.” Decker forces a half-hearted grin through his obvious concern. “I’ll rip you a new one when you can take it a little better.”
The door opens, and my mom and Matt come in, accompanied by my stepbrother. He’s tall and blond, practically Matt’s spitting image.
“Hey, you can’t be here, Foster,” Deck tells him sternly. “We don’t need agents sniffing around. Not even sure how you got in. Team and family only.”
We’ve been so careful to keep our connection discrete, I forget even Decker doesn’t know.
“It’s okay, Deck,” I tell him. “He is family. Jared’s my stepbrother.”
Iris
I stand as soon as Caleb enters our bedroom. We watch one another in wary silence for a few moments before he walks over and drops a kiss on my cheek. I jerk back, glaring up at him. “Don’t, Caleb.”
His eyebrows arch over the hard humor in his eyes before he shrugs and walks toward the closet, taking off his jacket. I follow him closely, determined to have this out.
“What was that tonight?” I ask, my voice brittle.
“What was what?” he asks, a little too casually, too easily, but his shoulders tense beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.
“August.”
At his name, Caleb meets my eyes in the closet mirror. He sneers and huffs a breath. “Oh, you mean his little fall?”
“Little fall?” I walk to stand in front of him, staring up and searching his face. “His career could be over, Caleb. Why would you do that?”
His eyes are blistering cold blue. “And what exactly are you accusing me of, Iris?”
“It was a dirty play.”
The back of his hand slams into my mouth, shoving any other words down my throat. I stumble. My back hits the mirror, sending spikes of pain through my shoulder.
I’ve never been hit in the face. My mother didn’t bother disciplining me. Though I saw men hit her and my aunt from time to time, no man has ever hit me, so I didn’t know. I couldn’t have known that the first hit, that baptism into violence, doesn’t just sting the flesh. It startles the soul.
For the space of a broken heartbeat, I stare at him. Every sensation and emotion—pain, anger, fear, panic—converge into the ache of my teeth and the throb of my lips. I touch my mouth, feeling the smear of blood, but not taking my eyes off him in case he strikes again.
As the shock wears off, my fingers twitch, every muscle longing to strike back, but I have the presence of mind to know I can’t. Lotus said she saw a shadow on Caleb’s soul. Well, I see a snake—a boa constrictor of lean muscle who could crush me with barely exerted effort.
“I’m sorry, baby.” He looks contrite. “I was just so upset that you would accuse me of a dirty play. It was instinct. It won’t happen again.”
He steps toward me, his hand reaching for my face.
My hand raises to ward off another blow. He frowns and takes another step, trapping me between the mirror and his huge body. I swallow my fear and shock so I can speak. “I told you what would happen if you ever did that, Caleb.” My voice sounds strong, but every cell in my body is trembling. It’s an act I have to hold up because I know he will exploit any weakness.