“She’s got a shift tonight and decided not to come.” Glenn didn’t have any better explanation, at least not one she intended to share. She’d offered to drive Mari home, but Mari had insisted she’d wanted to walk. She couldn’t object and had stood by wordlessly while Mari gathered her things and left with a hasty and abrupt good-bye. The silence had been cutting, but what could she say? She couldn’t apologize for the kiss, pretend it hadn’t mattered. She also couldn’t ask Mari to change what she wanted, and didn’t want, in her life. Both of them had been riding a wave of insanity, fueled by passion and finally beached by reason. They worked together, they were already friends, more than friends, and jumping into bed together would be a huge mistake. Mari didn’t want a relationship, didn’t even want any kind of intimacy that might lead to one, and neither did she. There’d been nothing else to say.
“You know what we haven’t done for a while?” Flann said conversationally after they’d walked in silence and ditched their empty plastic cups in a recycling bin.
“What?”
“Gone one-on-one. Let’s go shoot some hoops.”
Glenn stopped and stared at her. “Now? In the middle of the hospital barbecue?”
Flann lifted a shoulder. “I said my hellos to just about everybody, Abby’s hanging with Carrie and the others, and I had my two obligatory cups of lukewarm beer.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think so.”
“Out of practice, I guess.”
Glenn cut her a glance. “When’s the last time you played?”
“I kicked Margie’s ass just a couple days ago.”
Glenn snorted. “Yeah, right.”
Everyone knew Margie had a wicked jump shot, and even though she was a couple inches shorter than all the other Rivers sisters—and Glenn, for that matter—she was whippet fast and had hands of gold. “That’ll be the day.”
“Come on. Two out of three.”
The night stretched endlessly before her. Mari was working nights all week, which meant she couldn’t drop by the ER and hang around at night. She had nothing to look forward to for the rest of the weekend. Hell, for the week, when it came to it. She caved. An hour of sweating and listening to Flann taunt her about how slow she was getting might chase some of the dark from her head. Maybe. Worth trying anyhow, since the prospect of drinking lukewarm, weak beer for the rest of the night held no appeal. “Sure. Why not.”
“Lend me some clothes?” Flann added.
Glenn nodded, Flann texted Abby she was leaving, and fifteen minutes later Glenn pulled around behind the high school where the Rivers siblings had all gone to school. The basketball courts adjacent to the parking lot were empty. The whole place was empty. Everyone was at the fairgrounds. They piled out and silently strode to the court.
Flann played basketball the way she did everything else, with an arrogant flair that sometimes appeared like recklessness but rarely was. She drove hard, took unanticipated shots, and often managed to win by doing the unexpected. Glenn was a precision player, feinting, cutting right and left, picking the percentage positions from which to shoot. Over the dozens, hundreds of games they’d played, they were almost dead even.
Flann sank a basket and backpedaled as Glenn retrieved the ball and dribbled.
“You’re off your mark today,” Flann called, the merest taunting tone in her voice.
Glenn ignored her, dropped her shoulder as Flann made a lunge for the ball, pivoted away, turned, and lofted a long jumper. It hit the rim, teetered, and fell back to the court without going through. Any other day she would have made that shot.
Flann scooped up the rebound, sped back out to half court, and one-handed an impossible shot that hit the backboard, angled down, and swirled around the rim before dropping through. Luck, nothing else, riding on the wings of supreme confidence and innate skill.
“So what happened with Mari?” Flann called as Glenn went for the ball.
Glenn ignored her, dribbling, driving, shooting. Sweat dripped into her eyes and stung, the burning oddly welcome.
“You two having problems working together in the ER?”
“No. Mari’s good. Fits right in.”
“Abby said the same thing.” Flann muscled Glenn from inside, shot out an elbow and caught her in the chest, stole the ball. She circled, dribbling casually, making no move toward the basket. “I didn’t think that would bother you. Her being strong.”
“Why would it?”
Flann shrugged, picked up speed, drove to the basket and hit a layup. “It’s pretty much been your show for a long time.”
“I’m not you.”
“True.” Flann grinned. “There can only be one captain, and we all know who that is.”
Glenn reflexively caught the ball Flann shot at her before it struck her in the chest. Ass. She dribbled, took a halfhearted shot that didn’t go in, and stalked toward the side of the court. “I’m done.”
Flann took one more lofting overhand shot, sank it, and retrieved the ball. She caught up with Glenn halfway to the truck.
“What’s Mari’s story, do you know?” Flann asked casually.
