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)
“Oh, sure,” Mads said as she put it away again.
Xavier cocked an eyebrow at Jean, a silent but unmistakable See? that did nothing to quell the churning in Jean’s stomach. Xavier gave a jerk of his chin. “Walk with me a sec,” he said, and Jean didn’t have the right to refuse him. They attracted a couple curious looks as they crossed the room, but they made it to the water fountains across the room uncontested. Xavier took a quick drink before holding the medicine out again.
“Here,” he said. “You keep this one. I’ll pick up another tonight.”
Jean couldn’t stop himself, and even he heard the edge in his, “Just like that.” It was too late to take it back, and the keen look on Xavier’s face said the other man wasn’t going to let it slide. “You’ll just go and replace it like it’s nothing.”
“It is nothing. It’s an over-the-counter drug. Got it from the grocery store for a couple bucks. Why would anyone think twice about me having some on hand?” A rhetorical question, apparently, because Xavier didn’t wait before saying, “Making me a little uncomfortable that you’re so riled up about this, if I’m being honest. What on earth did they give you when you sprained your LCL?”
Jean picked at his bandages. His gaze went unbidden to his bare forearms, but the telltale bruises and rashes of ragged restraints were long gone. All that was left were the angry lines he’d put there this morning. If it was any other teammate, Jean would simply ignore the question until he was left alone, but Xavier was his vice-captain. He considered lying instead, but the only answer to come to mind was the very medicine Xavier was so dismissive of. The truth was a hideous thing to put into words, but maybe some ugliness would finally get Xavier out of his business.
“Nothing,” he finally said.
Xavier’s face went dangerously blank. “Come again?”
“It wasn’t their problem,” Jean said.
Between one heartbeat and the next he was back in Riko’s shadowed room, so much blood in his throat he could barely breathe. He reached unbidden for his head, looking for the spots where his hair was still uneven. Even now most of that night was a horrific haze he refused to dwell on. He didn’t remember Riko stopping; he didn’t remember Riko storming out of there and leaving Jean a crumpled mess in his wake. Maybe Riko realized he was going to kill Jean if he didn’t retreat, or maybe he’d simply seen the time and known he was due on the court for practice. It didn’t matter which. It didn’t. It couldn’t.
The urge to smack the medicine out of Xavier’s hand was sudden and violent, and Jean dug his nails into his scratched arm to stop himself. He dragged himself out of dark memories and said, “I convalesced in South Carolina. My treatment was the Foxes’ responsibility. You would have to ask their nurse what she prescribed if it matters that much to you.”
“I don’t care about the Foxes. You were injured in West Virginia. You can’t tell me you went from Edgar Allan to Palmetto State without any treatment or care. Jean,” Xavier tried, a hint of desperation sneaking into his voice when Jean stared past him toward the far wall. “Tell me I’m misunderstanding you.”
“I still have sets to do,” Jean said instead. “Are we done?”
“No, we’re not,” Xavier said, disbelieving. “Where is your rage?”
He’d asked as much on Monday, going so far as to call Jean unexpectedly docile. Jean curled his lip a little in displeasure and demanded, “What reason do I have to be angry? I am Jean Moreau; I am perfect Court. Ravens understand the cost of being the best, and we are not afraid to pay it.”
“We,” Xavier said, gesturing sharply between them, “are Trojans. Don’t you ever ‘we’ the Ravens again, you hear me? They do not deserve you.”
“Neither does a team who can’t win first.”
Xavier’s jaw worked with everything else he wanted to say. “Listen,” he said at last. Jean turned toward the other man, but it took Xavier another moment before he spoke. “You don’t want me in your business, I get it, but hear me when I say this: if you’re hurting, we’re hurting. If you won’t let us help you, we need to know you are taking care of yourself. Okay?”
They weren’t the right words, but it was close enough to your failure is our failure that Jean hesitated. “Yes.”
“If you won’t take this from me, at least get something from the nurses when we get back to the stadium.” Xavier gave him a last chance to take the bottle before pocketing it for good. “We’re so close to having you on the line at full strength. Don’t let a little recklessness put you back on the sidelines.”