Page 68 of Play For Me

“Hey, that was a clean tackle. Ref was blind.”

They all laugh, talking at the same time so I can’t hear anyone. Finally, my mom starts pushing them out of frame so we can actually talk.

“Have they been drinking?” I ask when it’s just her and Dad.

“Of course they’ve been drinking,” she says. “They had to watch sports.”

That makes me laugh. My uncles have always been far too preoccupied by rock music to ever attempt anything remotely sporty. The fact that they so often force themselves to sit through my games makes my insides feel warm and gooey. Damn, I love my family.

Mom talks some game specifics—she thinks our defense is weak on the left side and some of the girls need to work on staying on-sides—while Dad looks increasingly bored. Shenotices his attention waning and we share a look before she rolls her eyes. “You probably want to go shower,” she says. “How ’bout I call you later?”

I don’t tell her that I won’t be showering until after I get treatment on my knee. It would just make her worried. Instead, I blow them both a kiss and listen as the rest of the family shout their congratulations from somewhere off-screen. “Keep kicking ass, baby girl!” Dad shouts before they end the call.

I shake my head, grinning, as I set my phone next to me on the table. And then I look up and see Solomon standing there in the entrance to the training room, watching me with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh.” I shift in place, caught off guard. “Hey. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were waiting.”

He seems to give himself a little shake before approaching the table, already pulling on gloves. “It’s no problem.”

My brain scrambles for something to say, some way to get that expression off his face and make him seem more like Sol. Before I can come up with anything, he’s gently lifting my leg, just as he had done last night. “Tell me about the pain.”

“Uh.” It takes a moment for me to snap back into player mode. “It’s pretty much the same as yesterday when I got off the bus. Maybe more intense.”

His hands move to my knee, feeling the joint. “It’s swollen but not much worse than yesterday. Let’s treat it the same for now but I’m going to have to tell Devon about this. He might want you to see the doctor and make sure we’re not looking at anything more serious than travel-related irritation to the joint.”

Normally I would argue with him. Fuck no do I want the head trainer knowing it’s bothering me. Devon will definitely want me to see the doctor. And that means the coaches will know, too. But I just can’t bring myself to be bratty with Sol right now. Hedoesn’t need to hear me whining about it when he’s just doing his job.

He doesn’t wait for an answer anyway, just moves right into massaging the muscles around my knee. I study his face but he doesn’t look at mine.

“You can wear headphones if you want,” he eventually says. Normally I would, with any other trainer except Solomon. But since we’ve started working together, I haven’t felt the need to get lost in music during treatment even once.

“I’m fine like this,” I tell him. He nods and continues to work. Once he’s done with the soft tissue work, he sets up the Game Ready machine. He bends over me to adjust the compression cuff, bringing his face closer to me than it’s been since last night. “Solomon,” I murmur, wishing he would just look at me.

He finally does—but I wish he hadn’t. His eyes are so blank it scares me. Still, I try to press on, try to figure out a way to help him. “Can we talk about?—”

“No,” he says simply, decisively. “I need to go check on a few other girls. The machine will turn off in fifteen and you can hit the showers. Shout if you need anything.” Then he’s gone, leaving me sitting alone on the table, worry causing nausea to pool in my belly.

I stare at the empty door for a long moment before I finally pick up my phone. I scroll through the contacts until I get to his name and press call.

“Jay?” I say once he picks up. “I need your help.”

Nerves makeme feel shaky as I stand outside his hotel room. The rest of the team and staff are out for dinner, but when Ifound out Sol was skipping, I decided to skip too. Besides, I needed some time to get everything together.

“He might act like a jerk,” Jay had told me on the phone. “I know it’s hard to walk away when he seems so out of it, but there’s not a lot you can do.”

That’s fine. He can be a jerk to me. He can ignore me. I don’t mind spending the night sitting in the corner of his room, scrolling on my phone or something. But what I am not going to do is leave him on his own.

Feeling bolstered, I raise my hand and knock. Then knock again when he doesn’t answer. And again. I sigh, pulling out my phone to send him a text.

Me:You can either let me in or I’ll sit out here in the hallway all night

He doesn’t respond.

Me:Probably wouldn’t be super good for my knee to spend hours sitting on the floor, but oh well. I’m not leaving.

Finally, there’s movement on the other side of the door. I hear the deadbolt turn and then the door swings in, revealing Sol standing there. He’s in the same clothes as before—track pants and a school shirt—but he somehow seems more rumpled. Run down. And the blank expression hasn’t faded.

“I brought you dinner,” I say, squeezing past him. I don’t give a fuck that he didn’t invite me in. I’m at least going to make sure he has something to eat.