Page 164 of The Fall Classic

“That’s the Bible, isn’t it? The Gospel of Matthew?” Dr. Chang asks. “It’s good advice.”

“Freaking Jake Rodgers,” I say with a laugh. “Thanks, Doc. I really appreciate it.”

***

As much as I would love to talk to Georgie, I think I need to learn how to be in the clubhouse when I’m in the clubhouse.

So I don’t call her. I don’t look at my phone again or even pull out my book. I drop to the bench across from Lucas in time to hear a trainer call out.

“Still waiting to hear if Coop has a concussion, but they’ve confirmed he has a broken nose and Coop wants everyone to know it’ll make him look ‘even hotter.’ His words.”

I let relief surround me like water in the tank, and I force myself not to think beyond what we know. Coop is up and joking around, but I’m not his doctor.

In this exact moment, the only thing I can do for him is care.

I’m too wrung out for more, anyway.

“How’s it feel?” I ask Lucas, who’s icing his thigh.

“Cold,” he says.

“Dork.”

“Dweeb,” he says.

“Hey, Rodgers,” I call out to Jake. “You have a deck of cards, by any chance?”

Jake’s already shirtless, leaning back in a chair and laughing at something on his phone. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m gonna play cards with my brother. What are you doing right now?”

“Watching treadmill fails on YouTube.”

My pulse is still too fast and thin for a full laugh, but I manage a snort. “I can’t pretend this will be more fun, but want to play poker?”

He sets down his phone and shrugs. “I’m in.”

“Me too,” Rojas says.

A couple more guys join in, and soon, I’m bluffing that I have a flush on the river.

“He’s got nothing,” Lucas says, reading me correctly like the jerk mirror twin he is.

“Neither does he,” I say, pushing pennies toward the pot. Turns out a handful of veterans on the team keep rolls of pennies around for poker on rainy days. Lucas shoots me a glare, but then at the exact same moment, both of our eyes widen, and I know exactly what he’s thinking.

We’ll take turns bluffing.

Take them for every penny.

We both drop our heads, and I know without having to look that Lucas is hiding a smile, too.

It’s on.

***

The rain delay ends after three and a half hours, a catered lunch, and several hands of poker, in which Lucas and I come out nine dollars and … twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three cents richer.

We lift up our riches and splash them back onto the bench, laughing like we’re Scrooge McDuck.