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Once she disappears into the kitchen, I thumb out a message.

Me:I’ll survive

I send it and try to think of something else to say. Since when do I question what the fuck to text somebody? I’m like a middle school girl trying to figure out how to talk to her crush. It’s pathetic.

Me:I’m out of practice for a few weeks. Doubt I’ll start on game day

The thought makes me scowl, but I force it away when Belle shows up with two red pills in the palm of her hand and a glass of water. “Here. You need to ice your head too. And we should check to make sure—”

“Belle.” I cut her off. “I’m good. Seriously. Don’t you have a business to run? I’m sure they could use your help. If I need anything, I have your number now. But I’ll be fine on my own.”

She doesn’t look like she believes me, but she relents. “Okay. If you’re sure. But I mean it, Alex. If there’sanythingyou need, use my number.”

I won’t, but I tell her I will to appease her.

“Ohh, who’s Olive?” she asks, making my eyes snap back to my phone. She texted back already, and my eagerness clearly just gave me away. “I get it. You want time to talk to your friend. Fine. But try to get some rest today. The doctor said sleep is important, so don’t sext for too long.”

Christ. “I’m not—”

“It’s none of my business,” she says loudly, already collecting her things and heading to the door. I can hear her giggle, and Ican only imagine what she’s thinking. And I have a feeling she’ll share with Clarkson now that they seem to be on speaking terms again.

When the door closes behind her, I settle into my spot.

Olive:I’m sorry. How are you feeling?

Me:Suffocated by a makeshift nurse

I realize after I send it that I probably shouldn’t have, but it’s too late.

Me:She’s a teammate’s sister

Me:It was her place where I got attacked

I groan to myself when I see that I’m digging myself into a hole.

Me:It was at her club I mean

Me:More like a restaurant actually. A bar

I pinch my eyes closed when I see the word vomit happening.

When my phone starts vibrating, I peel one eye open to see Olive’s name flashing there.

The first thing she asks is, “Are you having a stroke? You’re never that talkative through text. Or…ever.”

I huff out a laugh. “I might be. Itwasa head injury.”

“You’re okay, though?”

“I’m as okay as I can be.”

She blows out a long-winded breath. “That’s…good. Yeah, good. I’m glad to hear that.”

We fall silent.

I stare at the stain on my jeans as I conjure up something to say.

She beats me to it. “So you have a teammate’s sister as a nurse, huh? You seem to be forming a pattern. I didn’t think you had such a specific type.”