With a nod, I shifted over onto a creeper board, rolled under the chassis, and grabbed a wrench. Reaching for the overhead bolts pulled at my ribs. The pain was a reminder of my own stupidity.
My cousin had dragged me to a bar last night. But when a guy shoved me near the pool tables, the stress of the past few days just snapped.
Usually, I try to walk away from trash talk. However, last night I swung first.
Taking him down to the floor felt good. Every punch I swung at the guy blocked out the reality of leaving Karter behind. The fight only ended when bouncers hauled us apart and tossed us both out onto the sidewalk.
Sneaking back into my mom’s apartment afterward required total silence. Mama worked too many hours to wake up and see her son acting like a criminal. Especially when my father had ended up in a cell for doing exactly what I did.
My phone vibrated against the concrete next to my head.
A text from Perez lit up the screen:Ice House isn’t the same without you. Sorry, man.
That message sat right below three missed calls and a string of texts from Karter. Staring at his name made the space under the car feel smaller. Answering him would be easy, but I forced my hand away and shoved the device face down.
He had a future on the team. I just needed to stay out of it.
Clocking out from work ten hours later, I dragged myself back to our apartment and unlocked the door. Mama was already waiting in the kitchen. She took one look at my face and bloody hands, pointed at a chair before I could even speak, and I sat down without a word.
The smell of rubbing alcohol quickly replaced the auto grease stench that seemed to follow me everywhere of late. Sitting across from me at the kitchen table, Mama soaked a cotton ball, then scrubbed the dirt and blood from my reopened knuckles with punishing force.
“What is wrong with you, Lekha?” Mama scolded.
“I am fine,” I muttered, pulling my hand back.
She yanked it right back toward her. “Fighting in alleys.Bozhe, why do you do this to yourself?”
“It was a bar,” I corrected her. “Not an alley.”
Her grip tightened on my fingers. “Do you think that makes it better? Your cousin told me everything.”
“He is a snitch.”
“He is worried about you,” she snapped. She pressed the alcohol into my split skin until I winced. “I am worried about you. You call me in the middle of the night and tell me you are throwing away your degree to protect someone. And now you come home and act like you have nothing left?”
I let out a long breath. My shoulders lifted in a tired shrug. “I had to leave, Mama. There was no other way.”
She dropped the cotton ball and looked up at my bruised face. “You still haven’t told me his name. Not once since you’ve been back.”
The linoleum floor was chipped near the table leg. I stared at that spot for a long time.
Seven days of dodging her questions. Seven days of pretending I had nothing to say. The exhaustion of it sank deep into my skin, heavier than the garage grease.
“His name,” I said. The words scraped out before I could stop them. “Karter. His name is Karter.”
Mama drew a slow breath through her nose. She did not speak, but her thumb stopped moving against the cotton ball and her chin tipped upward, waiting.
“He’s the legacy kid I mentioned on the phone before,” I continued. Slumping back in the chair, I dragged my uninjured hand down my face. “A teammate found out about us and wanted my ice time. So he filed a fake complaint about me, claiming I was harassing Karter.”
The word landed in the quiet kitchen and sat there.
Her brow furrowed, deep lines carving across her forehead. “And this Karter? What did he do?”
“He wanted to fight it. The athletic director. The whole administration.”
“But he did not.”
The blood on my knuckles had dried to a dull rust color. “I wouldn’t let him. His family would have cut him off. Besides, their names are on half the buildings on campus. The scouts already pulled my draft spot over the rumors, so I quit. Signed the form. Took the fall.” A bitter taste coated my tongue. “The investigation dies with me gone. He stays clean.”
