Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
They’d wasted ten minutes with the nurses, so there were only fifteen minutes left on the clock. Jeremy and Jean watched the rest of the match side-by-side, comparing notes on the players battling back and forth across the court.
Shawn had been put against Lander, as he was closer in skill and weight class than Haoyu. Either he knew Lander better than Jean did from painful experience, or he’d been watching them very carefully, because Shawn fought tooth and nail to keep space between their bodies. When they had to get close and he didn’t need his racquet ready, he kept it crosswise over his chest. It made it harder for Lander to hit him, though it wasn’t a perfect defense. Even through the court wall Jean could see his pained grimace when Lander broke through to drive an elbow home.
The match ended at nine-six, Trojans’ favor, and Jeremy gave Jean an enthusiastic shake. “Best gap we’ve had on them in years!”
“Ass on bench,” Lisinski said when Jeremy started to get up.
“Agh, Coach,” Jeremy protested, but he obediently settled down again. The rest of the Trojans were allowed onto the court to celebrate with their teammates and go through a quick handshake, and Jeremy settled for waving both hands over his head in solidarity. Rhemann led the coaches onto the court to meet the Bobcats’ staff, leaving just the three assistants to keep an eye on the bench.
It was perhaps inevitable that a reporter would swoop in as soon as the coast was clear. She stole the open spot on Jean’s other side as her cameraman crouched across from them.
“We’re here at the Gold Court with Jeremy Knox and Jean Moreau,” she said, beaming at the camera. “The final bell’s just sounded on a nine-six victory over longtime district rivals White Ridge Bobcats. A fantastic start to the season, with stellar performances all around. How are we feeling tonight, boys?”
“An exciting opener,” Jeremy agreed with a toothy smile. “I couldn’t be prouder of my team for the effort they brought to the court tonight. You never know what to expect from a first match, right? Summer practices can only prepare you so much for the season, so snagging a win here feels unbelievably good. And against such a talented team?” he added, looking toward the court once more. “We’re going to have so much fun this year, Ingrid. I can’t wait.”
“And you?” Ingrid asked, turning her smile on Jean. “I have a confession, before you answer that: I’ve never really been a Raven fan.” She briefly hid her face as if this was a shameful secret to air, then tossed her curls out of her face and leaned into his space. “I’ve watched Edgar Allan, of course, but I grew up in Anaheim. The Trojans will always be my first love. I was a vocal naysayer when your transfer was first announced, but wow. Consider me a convert.”
There wasn’t a question there, but she tipped the microphone toward him anyway. Jean wondered if he could simply get up and leave. Jeremy gave him an expectant look, and Jean barely managed to fight off a scowl. He refused to look at her when he said, “The Trojans deserve your devotion. They are very good.”
He could imagine Jeremy’s tired we, but there was no easy way Jeremy could correct him with an audience.
“I’m happy to be wrong,” Ingrid promised him. “You’re a natural fit for the team, and it’s clear your team adores you. There’s this—I’m going to butcher this, I’m sorry—this joie de vivre when they’re around you.” Butchering it was an understatement. Jean bit the inside of his cheek to bleeding so he wouldn’t comment on her pronunciation, but Ingrid wasn’t waiting for a response. She said, “Speaking of teammates, though, we couldn’t help but notice one in attendance tonight. I hope you don’t mind that we invited him down here for the postgame interview?”
Jean refused to believe another Raven had come this far, but then a familiar voice spoke up with a simple, “Johnny.”
Jean stopped breathing, but he was already turning. In no world could he ignore that voice; they had been partners for too long. At the end of the bench was a security guard, and at his side stood Zane Reacher. Four months away from the Ravens, he was still dressed head-to-toe in black, but even from here Jean could see how much weight he’d lost. He looked ghastly enough to knock Jean’s heart out of rhythm. Jean was on his feet before he realized he was moving, but he wasn’t sure if he meant to approach Zane or retreat.
Ingrid was introducing Zane to the camera, but the security guard didn’t wait for her to finish. He looked between Jeremy and Jean and said, “What’s the verdict? I can escort him back to the stands if you don’t want him down here.”