“No, but at least you’ll have a reason to shower.”

I shook my head.

“Come on.” He smiled. “It’ll just be for a little while and then you can come back here and get back to puppy dogging.”

Anger flashed through me. “This isn’t a fucking joke. It’s not a crush, West. You know that.”

He met my eyes, smile falling. “I know. But there’s nothing you can do about it right now, is there?”

“No. Not one fucking thing.” My throat closed up, and I swallowed hard.

“Then what’s the harm in coming to the courts with us and not thinking about it for a few hours?”

“What if I don’t want to forget about it?”

He propped the ball on his hip. “You want to wallow. I get it. Just come on for a little while, and then I swear I’ll leave you alone.”

My jaw flexed. “Swear?”

He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“Fine.” The word was flat. It would be good to work, to sweat, to forget for a minute, at least. I turned and headed to my bedroom.

West turned to Patrick. “See? Told you I could get him to go.”

I rolled my eyes and walked into my closet to change into a tank and basketball shorts, grabbing my shoes on the way out. West looked pleased with himself as I sat down and pulled one on.

“Don’t look so smug.” I tied my laces.

“Why not? You’ll feel better.”

“Maybe I want to be miserable.” I shoved my foot into the other shoe.

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of pathetic.”

I pulled the knot tight. “Thanks.”

“I’m just sayin’. Mopey Cooper is pretty fucking boring.”

“Sorry I can’t be the clown right now, but you’re a great second-string.” I grabbed my bag out of the hall closet and switched out the towel.

“I aim to please.”

I made my way through the kitchen, packing water and a protein bar. “Have you talked to her?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t answer right away. “Yeah.”

I zipped up my bag with my eyes down. “Is she all right?”

“She will be.”

I finally looked at him. “You’re not going to tell me anything?”

“I don’t know all that much, and if I did, do you really want to know?”

“I don’t know. Do I?”

West shook his head. “Why torture yourself?”

“I just want to know what’s going on with her.”

“She’s at home, and she’s trying to get her head together. That’s really all I can say.”

My eyes narrowed. “Did she tell you not to talk to me?”

He put up a hand. “No. I mean that’s all I know.”

I rubbed my face, pressed my fingers into my eye sockets. “I’m sorry. I just … it’s driving me crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

“I think getting out of the house is step one.”

I almost smiled. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Oh, I’m definitely right. Can we go now? Because my whole plan revolved around us not talking about your feelings.”

That one got me. I cracked a smile. “All right, fine. And get ready, Stretch, because I’ve got the fire in my belly to beat you on the court.”

Patrick snorted. “As if that’s enough to take down the giant.”

I felt a little better as we left the building, though the weight of everything pressed down on me like the clouds that hung over us, the air heavy, charged with the smell of rain. I focused my thoughts on the walk to the courts, the laughter of my friends, our feet against the damp pavement.

We set down our bags at the bench, and West and I went first. I was sweating within minutes, my mind devoid of any thoughts outside of the game. The thump of the ball against the pavement. The shuffle of our feet. Our huffing breath. I shot and missed. I shot and made it. I juked and dribbled around West, my focus tight.

The rain began to fall just hard enough to make things interesting, and I tightened my concentration so I could hang on to the ball, hang on to my footing.

I shot again and made it, and West hung his hands on his hips, huffing.

“Your game, Coop.”

I dribbled and shook my head, not even realizing the game was over. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d beaten West. I barely cared. Just dribbled between my legs, not wanting to lose the focus that I’d found, like I’d mainlined willpower. I shot the ball, and it passed through the hoop without touching the rim.

West and Patrick shared a look.

“No gloating?” West asked. “You even find a way to gloat when you lose.”

I grabbed the ball and dribbled some more. “Tricky, you’re up.”

West watched me as he took the bench and Tricky took his place. I tossed him the ball, and he checked it back to me. And then, I took off.

I was up and down the court, silent as we played. I could feel their worry, the expectations pressing on me from them. From Maggie. The public. My parents. From myself. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that expectation had been crushing me for my whole life.

I’d built my own cage by believing the expectations were my truth, by giving them power. And I realized that I held the power to break free. I realized I had the strength to let go.

Patrick was all over me, the game more intense with every beat of the ball. I body checked him and spun away to shoot. I made it.

Patrick panted. “Game.”

My lungs burned, chest heaving as sweat and rain rolled down my face. I bent, hands on my knees, staring at the blacktop before closing my eyes.

“Coop …” It was West, and I looked up to find him and Patrick in front of me with their eyes full of sorrow.

I shook my head and looked back at the ground. I’d burned the fog down, and I could see my future. I understood for the first time what it all meant, and I knew exactly what to do.

There were two things I realized in that moment of clarity.

I had to find a way to let Maggie go, and I needed to do everything I could to be the man she deserved. And I could do it. I could be everything for her, if she came back to me.

If she didn’t, if she couldn’t fix herself, I would fix myself in the hopes that maybe, someday, I would get another chance.

SPLIT 

Maggie

IT WAS JUST AFTER DUSK, and the sky was bathed in purples and indigo as the sun slipped away. The lights were off in my room, and I sat curled up in my window seat with my eyes on the big maple tree just beyond. I’d watched the tree grow from a sapling to a behemoth, climbed its branches as a girl, kissed Jimmy goodbye under them when I grew up.

I’d spent my Monday working on plans for Susan, and based on her response, I knew I’d need to make a decision soon about what I was going to do.

It was the question everyone wanted the answer to, one of the many I didn’t have.

I felt split in two, and the parts of me hadn’t yet mended together. No, it wasn’t even that. When Old Maggie and New Maggie smashed into each other, New Maggie was obliterated. Gone. And Old Maggie was left fractured from the impact. But every day I felt a little more together. A little bit closer. I just didn’t know what I was getting closer to.

Closure, I supposed, that magical land I’d find when I was whole again.

It didn’t help that my days were long and quiet, filled with reading and Netflix and my thoughts. Brooke was really the only person I’d seen besides Courtney — I’d avoided going out in public at all costs after I saw her, even though I was glad I did. If every day was a step toward closure, seeing Courtney was a long jump.

Every time I picked up my phone, I thought about calling Cooper. Texting him. Anything. I wanted to know if he was out there and missing me like I was missing him.