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get it. It burned, making my eyes ache. No crying.
    “No crybabies allowed, Allie .” I could hear Lindie…remember how she’d tried to calm me down when I’d broken my wrist during a game. It had been bad, requiring three pins, but Lindie wouldn’t let me cry. “ Tough it out, Allie. Don’t let anyone see you cry. Especially not the boys. It’s nothing. You’re fine.”
    We both knew it wasn’t fine. My hand was lopsided, hanging at an awkward angle, and I was close to passing out. I managed to brace it on the coach’s clipboard, while Lindie kept talking, trying to distract  me until my mom had pulled up the car and we’d driven to the ER. Even there, wanting to throw up and dizzy from pain, Lindie had almost made me laugh. “You’re fine.” She’d shaken her head, acting disappointed in me. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”
    I smiled at the memory. She’d been the last face I remembered seeing before they wheeled me into the OR. “I’m…I’m trying to be fine,” I said out loud, hating the tremor in my voice. “But I wish you were here.”
    Lindie didn’t lie to me. She never had. She wouldn’t now. She wouldn’t tell me what happened was an accident. She’d tell me it was my fault and tell me to get over it. But I was the reason she wasn’t here. I was the reason she was gone forever.
    “I’m so sorry…” I pressed my forehead against the shower tiles, letting the water pour over me until it was freezing cold and my teeth were chattering. I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, shivering. I tugged on the white robe Lindie and I had stolen from the hotel room we’d shared during the playoffs and threw myself on my bed. Newspaper clippings and posters were tacked up on my walls, making me lonelier. Nothing like being reminded of everything that was gone.
    My mother’s voice traveled up the stairs. “Allie?”
    “In my room,” I answered. I heard her on the stairs, the squeaky board, and sat up, tugging my robe tighter around me.
    “You didn’t just wake up, did you?” she asked as she came in the room. “It’s almost one.”
    I shook my head. “I went for a run.” Did she know about the path?
    She was surprised. “Good for you. Any chance you’d be willing to come down and help me at the clinic?”
    I wrinkled my nose but saw something on her face that stopped me, like she was bracing for my answer—like she knew I’d give her some lame-ass excuse when there was no reason not to help her except that I didn’t want to. She was here too, just like Dax and me, dealing with redneck hell…
    I stood up. “Give me a sec to get dressed?” First Dax, now Mom. I’m losing my bitch-mystique.
    Mom’s smile was pretty awesome. So was her relief. “I’ll make some lunch for the boys.” She paused at the door. “Is it just me, or is Dax becoming Wyatt Two?”
    “Not just you.” I shook my head. So not going to happen . But I wasn’t going to say that out loud. Didn’t want her to read anything into it.
    “He’s certainly a good guy. Wyatt, I mean. So sad he has so much responsibility at such a young age. I don’t know how he stays so…positive.” She pulled the door shut before I could ask her what she was talking about.
    What did Wyatt have to be sad about? His ripped body? His booby truck? His mob of cowboy friends? Okay, his job sucked, but at least he had a job. He didn’t act sad. If anything, he was way too nice. But…was he really? A good guy? Or was he a guy that knew how to play nice until he got what he wanted? What did he want?
    It didn’t matter. As long as he did what my parents needed, what did I care? I didn’t.
    I tugged on denim shorts and a pink tank top, brushed through my hair and clipped the sides back, and dabbed on a touch of lip gloss. I stuck my tongue out at my reflection. I didn’t need to put myself together to go work at Mom’s place, but I wasn’t going to over-analyze why I was putting a little extra effort