Page 32 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)

WHIMSY

“What do you mean you missed your flight?” Ebba shrieks into her phone, pausing on the sidewalk. I quickly pull her to the side and stand with her.

Elias left early this morning to see the physical therapist and have his first practice back after his injury if he gets the go ahead. I’m glad the injury wasn’t a major one, but I still worry about the possibility of him being on it too soon even if I know his team knows what they’re doing.

“Keaton.” Ebba pinches the bridge of her nose. “You’re supposed to be here tonight. I haven’t seen you in weeks .” She gets quiet, listening to whatever he’s saying. “In the morning? Are you sure?”

She takes a deep breath, but she can’t do anything to rid the annoyance from her eyes. “Please, just get here. I miss you.”

He says something else and she hangs up with a mumbled, “Love you.” Turning to me, she huffs, “Men are so stupid.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I laugh.

“I can’t believe he missed his flight.” She shakes her head as we start down the street again. “You’re a grown man—how do you sleep through your alarm?”

I press my lips together in an effort hold back the words I want to say—like the fact that I don’t think Keaton cares all that much about her and probably doesn’t want to come.

“Accidents happen,” I say instead.

A small cry from Ebba has my eyes widening in surprise. I rarely see her show that kind of emotion.

“Hey,” I say softly, tugging her to the side once more. “What’s wrong?”

She sniffles, turning her face toward the sky like she can use gravity to keep the tears inside. “Why am I never any good for the men I fall for? Why am I not worth sacrificing their time for? Why don’t they want to be with me?”

Ebba’s pain, written so plainly on her face, makes my own stomach hurt. I don’t like seeing her like this, but she’s justified in her annoyance. Keaton always has an excuse to not show up for her.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” I hastily brush her tears away before they can ruin her makeup. I know she’d hate that. “Some men … they’re not worth our time.”

She sighs, wrapping her arms around herself. “You’re right. He says he’ll be here tomorrow, though.”

She looks at me with so much hope that I hate to burst her bubble. Maybe he’ll come, maybe he won’t, but even if he does come chances are he’ll ignore her the majority of the time.

My fingers find her hand and I give it a tiny squeeze. “And if he’s not?” I feel like I have to ask the question.

“Then maybe it’s time to cut him loose,” she sighs. “Why do I pick the worst guys ever? I see the way my brother looks at you.” I have to bite my tongue not to blurt out the fact that he’s acting. “I want that . No guy … well … never mind.”

“Fisher?” I prompt and she nods.

“He looked at me like I was his whole world, but … it was a secret, you know?”

“I know,” I reply. Perhaps the worst kept secret ever.

I think the only person close to them oblivious of their relationship is Noah.

Elias has made comments here and there over the years about Fisher looking at Ebba—and he always says it in a joking manner like he knows they were together.

The two of them definitely thought they were way more secretive than they actually were.

Whatever they had going, ended before I started working for Elias, but even I caught on quickly to them having some sort of relationship.

Ebba’s reaction the first time I asked confirmed it for me.

“And then…” She lets her arms drop and shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I grab her hand “We don’t have to talk about it. Let’s grab a bite to eat and head to the practice courts?”

She gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her dark eyes. “Sounds good.”

I press my lips together with worry as I watch Elias hit the ball back and forth with his hitting partner. Despite only a few days’ rest, his knee is obviously stiff and slowing him down. The frustration is written plainly on his face.

The even thwack, thwack, thwack of the ball going back and forth doesn’t soothe me like it usually does.

I hope between stretch, and massage, and whatever else his team chooses to do they can get him back to the top of his game.

He was so fucking close in his last match.

The fall was unfortunate. I know a win at Rolland Garros would be the kind of high to carry him into Wimbledon come the end of June.

“Take five,” his head coach’s calls out.

Elias jogs over and swipes a cold water from the cooler and some kind of snacks before jogging over to join Ebba and I where we sit watching.

“What are you two doing here?” He takes a long sip of his water. “I thought you were going for lunch and then picking up Keaton.”

The eyeroll from Ebba is so dramatic I swear I can hear her eyes rattling like marbles in her head. “He missed his flight.”

His eyebrows climb his forehead. “You’re serious?

” He raises his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow and I gawk like I’ve never seen a sweaty bare male chest before.

“What an idiot,” he finishes with and lets his shirt drop back down.

The self-satisfied smirk he sends my way tells me he wasn’t oblivious to my gawking.

“He says he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Elias looks my way, and we have a silent communication that both of us will be shocked if he shows up.

“I’ll be here late.” He takes another sip of water.

“After we finish up here, they’re going to do some red-light therapy on my knee.

Maybe you guys should go out tonight to a club or something?

” He frowns at his own suggestion. “On second thought, no, I don’t need any French dudes checking out my girl and my sister. ”

Ebba perks up beside me. “A club might be fun.”

I frown. I’m not the going out type. I like to be in my pajamas and in bed by ten o’clock at the latest.

“Do we have to?” I whine but the glow in Ebba’s eyes tells me we do, indeed, have to.

“Yes,” she squeals. “We’re going out tonight.”

“This is your fault,” I tell Elias.

He runs his fingers through his sweaty, curly hair. “I’m aware. If you’re going out, text me your location, and if you leave, text me again. I mean it,” he warns us with a finger swinging back and forth between the two of us.

“Mhm, sure. You got it.” Ebba’s already standing and pulling me along with her. “We need to get clothes.”

“Don’t you have clothes?” Elias calls as she’s dragging me toward the exit.

“Not for clubbing,” she calls back.

I send a look to my fake-boyfriend that’s a clear plea for help and he gives me a sheepish smile back.

But I guess if it’ll make Ebba happy, I’ll do it.

It can’t be so bad, right?