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“Superman complex?”
“Probably,” I said with a shrug. “Not feeling very super tonight, though. I’ve never had a season start 0–3.”
“It can’t be all your fault.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m the team captain and it’s my job to do something about it.”
I joined her in looking into the darkened distance, a minute of comfortable silence passing between us.
“Luke used to talk about this treehouse he wanted to build,” she said softly. “My brother. When we were kids, he made drawings of a treehouse with all these different rooms and I thought it was the coolest thing. He said I could live there, too, which was a big deal to me. He never left me behind or made fun of me.”
“Are you guys close?” I asked her, trying to signal that I wanted to listen without asking invasive questions.
“Not as close as we used to be. He…he has some health issues. And it’s…” She sighed heavily. “Our mom’s side of the family has a lot of money, and they cut Luke out a few years ago. I can’t say he didn’t deserve it, but he took it hard.”
“I had a teammate on my last team who was self-destructive. I loved him like my own family, but he was his own worst enemy.”
Elle locked her gaze onto mine, nodding. “That’s how Luke is.”
“My teammate’s girlfriend got pregnant. It wasn’t planned, and she ended up leaving him about halfway through the pregnancy because he just wouldn’t get his shit together.”
The corners of Elle’s lips dipped down in a frown. “Or maybe couldn’t? Did you ever wonder if hecouldn’tstop being the way he was?”
“In this guy’s case, he could. And he finally did, when he realized he had to choose between drinking and running around with other women and his girlfriend and kid.”
Elle stared down into her wine glass. “I want to think there’s hope for Luke. I sent him some money earlier today and I felt sick about it. Am I really helping him if I’m helping him buy drugs?”
My heart sank. I’d been hoping Elle was exaggerating her brother’s troubles, but it didn’t sound like it.
“It’s hard to say no when you love someone,” I said.
She wiped a tear from her cheek and finished her glass of wine in one drink. “I have dreams about finding him dead from an overdose. That’s dark, but…”
“I’m sorry. No one deserves that.”
“Not even a wicked witch like me?” she joked.
“I don’t think you’re a witch.”
She smiled sadly and picked up her glass, then stood up. “I should get to bed. Thanks for listening, Ford. I mean it.”
I felt it again—an invisible tie connecting us. I wanted to grab onto it and pull her closer to me.
“Anytime.”
She looked like she was going to say something, but instead she walked back to her patio and stopped at the door, turning to look at me.
“Good night. I hope you win your next game.”
I wanted to tell her not to go. To refill her glass and come tell me more about herself. My better judgment won out, though.
“Good night,” I said. “And thanks.”
CHAPTERSIX
Elle
“Next,”Sam said as she broke down the box she’d just unpacked.
