Page 19 of Too Far

I’m beginning to fade when Kylian speaks.

“I didn’t mention this earlier, because I didn’t want to upset her. Or implicate her.”

My eyes are wide open now, and I stiffen involuntarily. In a heartbeat, the calm I’d finally mustered is overtaken by a surge of adrenaline.

“What is it?” I reach over, signaling for him to pass the joint to me.

For a while there, I was hazy and sated, on cloud fucking nine. I appreciate his ability to read the room and not upset Jojo any more than she already is, but if there’s more… if something else is coming for us—

“You’re going to need to walk with a limp on campus this week. You might even consider employing the use of a crutch.”

My stomach sinks.The fuck?

Before I can press, he continues.

“This morning, around 7:35 a.m., you were in the weight room with Cap. You tripped on a bench, snagging one foot in the process, and landed in an awkward lunge. It was a freak accident. The medical report indicates a suspected first- or second-degree groin tear.”

In a way only Kylian can, he delivers this information all cool and collected, presenting only the facts.

Or, in this case, the lies masquerading as facts.

Passing the joint back to him, I mull over his explanation, searching for the deeper meaning behind his words.

“The email I sent from your account informing the coaches and training staff will bear a time stamp of 8:23 a.m.”

And there it is.

The missing piece of the puzzle.

That means I was allegedly injured a few hours before shit went down at the house.

“The injury will take precedent over any fallout or disciplinary decisions,” I muse, marveling at the simplicity and genius of the scheme.

“Precisely. The therapeutic protocol for a pulled groin is rest. The training team won’t even attempt to evaluate, stretch, or massage it for several days. You’ll be placed on the injured list for one or two weeks. There’ll still be a review and potential disciplinary action based on who shows up to the meeting and how much sway Decker has with them, but it won’t be the headline controlling the narrative. At least not right away.”

An irrepressible chuckle rumbles through my chest.

I nuzzle deeper into Jojo’s hair and inhale in an attempt to control my body’s giddy reaction. Pride surges through me. Pride, and gratitude.

In this family, we take care of one another.

When I’ve finally reined in my natural physical response and I’m sure I won’t wake her, I whistle low.

“That’s clever. Cunning, honestly, even for you, Boy Genius.”

“Anything for this family,” he counters.

A-fucking-men.

His demeanor is far more serious than mine. It’s probably more appropriate than the capricious relief rushing through me. There’s a warmth and a resounding comfort to being part of a unit that functions so well and takes care of one another so completely.

I’m not out of the woods. There are still plenty of potential tripwires on the path back to the field and my future, but this is best-case scenario.

“Kylian,” I croak, watching the cherry of his joint light up, suspended in the dark. “Thank you. I don’t know how I’ll even begin to repay you.”

“You could start by upgrading my nickname. Daddy Genius has a nice ring to it.”

I blink into the darkness, stunned and trying to make sense of the comment my most serious, literal friend just threw out there. A beat of silence thrums between us, and then he laughs.