Page 14 of Ruthless Court

He doesn’t need me anymore.

The problem is, Dad still believes in him.

Ryan’s release has improved. His numbers are up. Two coaches have answered Dad’s emails, and the showcase director returned his call.

The damage is already done.

Dad has spent months studying Ryan because I asked him to.

I made Ryan seem worth the extra time.

I carried his name into our kitchen, defended him when Dad questioned his effort, and convinced myself I was helping someone who cared about me.

Ryan gets the training.

The film.

The contacts.

All because I was gullible enough to mistake a game plan for affection.

I lie in bed that night and make myself remember every detail.

The courtyard.

The prom sign.

Brooke’s laugh.

The way Ryan watched her during that slow dance.

The difference between the smile he gave the camera and the one he gave her.

I will never confuse them again.

No athlete will charm his way through me to reach my father.

No boy will ask about my books while calculating what my loyalty might buy him.

No one will turn my heart into another route to the basket.

Ryan ran the play perfectly.

I was the opening he used to get inside.

Never again.

One

HANNAH

My father has my future planned down to the square footage.

“Ten thousand to start,” he says, drawing an invisible building over the scarred table in the coaches’ lounge. “Two full courts. Six baskets. Shooting machines along the far wall. We’ll rent it to local teams during the week, then run our own program on weekends.”

I look up from my laptop.

He is still wearing the black polo from tonight’s game. The school logo stretches across his chest, and a whistle hangs from his neck even though the gym emptied twenty minutes ago.