Chapter 2

After I hung up, I opened my contacts.

Logan. Tyler. Chris. Jordan. For ten years those four names had occupied every pinned slot in my phone. One by one, expressionless, I swiped them into the blocked list. Instagram, Twitter, the mutual follows — scrubbed clean.

Let him rot.

With no one left to clean up his messes or plug the holes in his sister's medical bills, he wanted that seven-fifty-K championship purse more desperately than anyone alive.

But I was curious whether a man full of banned stimulants would ever get his hands on that check.

The next day, the Ridgeline Sports Center in Los Angeles was packed to the rafters.

I sat in the front row beside the staff tunnel and swept a cold eye over the stands. A few rows over, I spotted her instantly: the girl in the black ball cap, short hair, so thin she looked hollowed out. Last life, she was the one in the alley, screaming you destroyed my idol while she buried a knife in my stomach.

This life, she was still down front, holding up a light-up sign with Logan's name on it, eyes locked on the court.

Courtside, Maddie had a custom towel in her hands and an expression of tender agony as she dabbed sweat off Logan midwarmup.

"Logan, you have to go all out today!"

Logan had eyes for nothing else. He lowered his voice and promised her, gently, "Once I get this money, I'm taking you to the Caribbean in the offseason. We'll make up for the trip we missed."

Maddie's smile dripped honey. She slid her arms around his neck, but her eyes went past his shoulder to find me, gloating, taunting.

Logan followed her gaze, glanced at me, and let out a contemptuous snort.

"Ava. I'll talk to you again if you want. Restore the hospital account first. Then we can discuss everything else."

I couldn't even be bothered to roll my eyes.

For years, I'd hinted about taking a short trip together in the offseason, just to get him to decompress. It was always too much training, always I have to take care of my sister. Suddenly he was generous. Suddenly it was the Caribbean.

A shame. When he finally realized that ten years of his career — and his sister's lifeline — had been destroyed by the sweet little flower in his arms, I wondered if he'd still be able to smile like that.

The opening whistle blew.