seven
RYLAN
Jamison is going one-on-one against me to test my footwork. But all I’ve been doing since I got here an hour ago is asking him about Calista.
“I don’t understand. She’s not…” I want to say “my Calista,” but she’s not mine and she hasn’t been for years. “Herself.”
He sighs and nods. “I asked her to coach a girls’ team and she refused. She says she’s too busy.” He kicks the ball out from under me and it flies back, so I jog back to get it. “Yer distracted.” He shoots me a glare. “Are you sure something else isn’t affecting your game? Mental is a big part.”
“No.”
Jamison kicks it out from under my feet again and I groan. He runs after it, then bends to pick it up, holding it to his hip. “Is it Calista?”
“We broke up a long time ago. I played a great season last year. Well,
