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TWENTY-THREE

BECCA

My phone is taunting me. It’s vibrating across my desk, daring me to pick it up. Papa flashes across the screen on repeat, and I swear I can feel his glare from here.

What on earth is he callin’ for?

I haven’t talked to him in months, and I’m not sure I want to break that streak now. Regardless, I swipe my screen and answer.

“Hi, Papa.”

“Rebecca.” Nails on a chalkboard rake down my insides. Just like that, he’s tainted the name again.

“Long time no talk,” I can’t help but quip.

“And whose fault is that? I’m callin’ to make sure you know we’re comin’ into town for your graduation. Your momma thought it would be good for you to hear it from me.”

My stomach jolts at his words. I assumed they’d still show up. “Okay.” I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I figured y’all would be headin’ down.”

“Have you given up this foolish talk about not comin’ back home?”

I sigh, my fingers tangling in my curls. “Papa, I wish you would understand. I need to be free of that place. Need to spread my wings and learn to fly on my own.”

He huffs. “Here’s your momma.”

There’s a quick moment where I ruminate on the fact he didn’t even say goodbye, just dropped his words down the line and disappeared. Momma’s voice rings in my ear, breaking the silence.

“Rebecca Jean, I wish you’d stop upsettin’ your father the way you do. Liable to give him an ulcer, and Lord knows you don’t need any more sins taintin’ that soul.”

“Momma, drop it, will you? I don’t even know why y’all want me home so bad. What difference does it make? All I do is embarrass you.”

“You belong at home, helpin’ us run the church, bein’ a part of this family.”

My face scrunches, dread filling up my bones at the thought of being chained to the church for the rest of my life. At being chained to my folks, who wouldn’t know what a family is supposed to be if it hit them upside the head. “Agree to disagree.”

Momma tsks. “You prayin’ every night?”

The tension in my chest draws tight. “Yes, Momma. I’m still prayin’.”

It’s not technically a lie. Eli makes me praise God almost every night. I smirk at the thought.

“Good. That’s good. You talked to Alina May lately?”

My forehead wrinkles. “All the time, why?”

“Haven’t seen her at Sunday service in a while. It’s not a good look, you know. That whole family already has so much gossip goin’ around the town, they need all the Jesus they can get.”

A knock on my bedroom door steals my attention, and Sabrina pokes her head in, tapping her finger to her wrist, reminding me it’s almost time for the game.

“Momma, I gotta go. I’ll see y’all when you get here.”

I hang up the phone, nerves jumbling up my belly as I hop off my desk chair and follow Sabrina into our living room. It’s the SEC tournament this weekend in Nashville, and tonight is the final game. I’m supposed to be there, but I had a bit of a cold earlier this week, so Coach made me stay home, afraid I’d get the players sick. But I’ve been glued to my TV every day. We’re the number-one seed, and we won our game on Thursday. Won again on Friday. Now it’s Saturday, and this is the big one. The title.

I’m invested. Not only because I feel like part of the team, but because this is important to Eli. He deserves this. They all do.

I told him not to worry about us talking after the games, but it doesn’t stop me from waiting by my phone like a lovesick girl. And every night, like clockwork, he calls. I almost wish he wouldn’t. It’s a dangerous thing, having faith in someone.

Sabrina plops on the couch, passing me a Coke and putting a bowl of popcorn between us.

“I can’t believe you talked me into watching this,” she says.

“Well, we’ve gotta support Jeremy. Plus, I’m kinda into it after so many months of bein’ with the team.”

The camera pans across the arena and lands on Eli. My fingers dig into my knees, wishing I could reach through the screen and touch him. I grab the remote, turning up the volume when the announcers say his name.

“You know, Jeff, I never thought I’d be the one to say it, but I’m impressed with Elliot Carson. I’ll be the first to admit I was firmly in the ‘he’s too young’ camp. But the FCU Stingrays record speaks for itself. It’s like a different team out there, and between Coach Andrews and Carson, they’ve really done something special with these players.”

“Talent, Carl. That’s what it is. Some people are just born for the game and Carson is one of them.”

My heart swells as they heap on the praise.

“Weren’t you calling the game that ended his career?”

“I couldn’t forget it if I tried. I’ve never seen an arena go so quiet. The nation heard twenty thousand hearts break that night when he didn’t get back up. New York’s hopes and dreams were centered around that young man, and to see it all ripped away so fast…devastating.”

Their words travel across the room and slam against my lungs, making me lose my breath. I knew he was hurt, knew it ended his career, but I didn’t know it was like that . I think back, trying to remember Lee or her old man leaving town, but I come up empty. In fact, other than Lee mentioning what happened in passing, it wasn’t ever talked about again. Anytime folks in town brought it up, she’d shut it down, annoyed. My heart quickens, sickness climbing up my throat when I think of what it must have been like for him. I wonder if anyone was by his side, or if it’s yet another thing he’s had to go through all alone.

My head throbs, the sudden change of perspective making me dizzy.

FCU Stingrays win the game, and I should be thrilled, but I’m distracted. Instead of staying in the living room and celebrating with Sabrina—not that she gives a damn—I rush to my room and pull up Google.

Elliot Carson career-ending injury

My eyes widen as I scroll through hundreds of articles and images. I click on videos and watch it replay a thousand different ways. How have I never seen this? Seems like the entire college and NBA fandom mourned the loss, but I can’t remember a single tear shed from his family.

For the first time, some of my anger shifts onto Lee. Didn’t she give a damn?

Eli calls a few hours later while I’m lying in bed, pretending like I wasn’t waiting to hear his voice. To him, the injury happened years ago, but for me, it’s fresh. And so is this feeling of unease whenever I think about all the ways Lee didn’t bring him up over the years. I bite back the tears, inhaling deep before I pick up.

“Hiya.”

“Baby girl. Did you watch the game?”

“Why, did y’all win?” I smile.

“Like there was any doubt,” he scoffs.

I laugh. “You sure do live up to your nickname, Big Head. Not surprisin’, I suppose, with the way those announcers wouldn’t shut up about you.”

He sighs. “I wish they’d focus on the team, not me.”

“Well, like it or not, you’re part of the team, too. They’re impressed. Be proud of yourself, Eli.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

The silence stretches, and even through the phone, thousands of miles away, it wraps itself around me and reaches inside my chest, drawing the words out. “I looked up the videos of your injury.”

He sucks in a breath. “Why?”

I shrug even though he can’t see, my heart battering against the wall of sadness that’s infused itself around my edges. “The announcers talked about it and I…” I tug on the ends of a curl. “I got curious. Lee never talked about it much, and I realized I never even thought about what it must have been like for you.”

He clears his throat. “It sucked.”

“Yeah.” I chew on my lip. “I’m sorry no one was with you. If I… I wish I coulda been there,” I whisper. “I wish I woulda known to make sure Lee was, too.”

“Me too, baby girl.” His voice is pinched and low. “But that was a long time ago, and you’re here now.”

I wait for him to elaborate, but he never does. Instead, he sighs. “I miss you.”

My stomach clenches at how his words strain against the things he obviously isn’t saying. But I won’t push him to talk about something if he doesn’t want to. I just needed him to know that I see him and that I’m sorry I didn’t for so long.

“I miss you, too.” I twirl the ends of my hair. “When do you get back?”

“If I tell you, will you be waiting in my bed?”

“I think I’d need a key for that.” I choke on the words as they come out. What the hell? I don’t want a key to his place. I have no idea why I just said that.

He chuckles. “I’ll give you the code and get you one made when I get back in town.”

I cringe. “All right then. Great.”

It isn’t great. In fact, it makes my stomach squeeze so tight I think I may pass out. Things are perfect the way they are, and there’s zero reason to change it.

Anxiety bangs against the walls of my heart, trying to break free.

As usual, I ignore it.