A pinky promise is a sacred vow.
That was established for me at a young age. First, by my neighbor best friend who made me swear not to tell that she liked a boy in class, and secondly — solidly — by my twin brother when he made me vow not to tell our parents that he’d broken their favorite vase from their honeymoon trip.
It seemed simple as a kid, wrapping my pinky around another and knowing from that moment on, we shared something no one else would.
It was the ultimate symbol of trust, of responsibility, and I took it seriously.
Especially with Gavin.
Older than me by roughly six minutes, Gavin wasn’t ever just my brother. He was my twin. And as only twins understood, there was a bond more powerful than blood, more powerful than friendship, more powerful than love that united us.
He’d asked me over the years to make many pinky promises.
Pinky promise you won’t tell that I went to that party.
Pinky promise you won’t tell that I got an F on that paper.
Pinky promise you won’t tell that I snuck Larissa into my room last night.
The older we got, the more I found myself making promises, and I kept every single one. I promised without even thinking twice, without hesitation, without an ounce of doubt that I couldn’t keep the vow.
Until now.
“Riley, please.”
Gavin’s nose flared as his eyes searched mine, our hands clasped together at the side of the hospital bed. His shaggy, dark blond hair was greasy and matted to his forehead, his eyes hollow and red, skin ashen. If I didn’t know his diagnosis, I’d assume he was dying.
I shook my head, straining to swallow the knot in my throat.
“You have to,” he pleaded, squeezing my hand. “I swear, I’ll never ask you for anything again.”
My eyes welled with tears as he winced, trying to shift himself in bed but having difficulty. I helped him get comfortable again, and then he grabbed my hand once more, and I stared at that point of contact so I didn’t stare at his legs.
His immobile, paralyzed legs.
Just the word — paralyzed — made bile rise in my throat. It still felt like a nightmare, like an alternate universe that couldn’t possibly be real. My brother was only sixteen. He was healthy, a competitive athlete, a young boy with a bright future ahead of him.
Until the person who was always supposed to have his back decided to drive drunk and throw all that out a broken windshield.
I shook my head like I could shake the anger, trying to focus on what Gavin was asking me.
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. You’re a better kicker than me already and you know it.”
“That’s soccer, Gav. It’s different.”
“Not by much.”
Something of a laugh slipped out on a breath as I shook my head, swallowing down the bigger issue at hand.
“I’m a girl.”
“And?”
I leveled my gaze at him. “Girls don’t play football.”
“Sure they do. There are a ton of girls playing football.”
“Not at the collegiate level.”
“It’s happened before. It can happen again. And if anyone can do it — it’s you.” He noted my hesitancy and squeezed my hand again. “Don’t act like you haven’t loved football, maybe even more than me, your entire life. You’ve run kicking drills just as much as I have.”
“For fun.”
“Only because you never considered it could be for more than that.”
I sipped a long, slow breath through my nose, letting it out just as hesitantly.
“I can help,” Gavin continued. “I’ll coach you. You already have the hardest part of it — which is that you can kick like Matt Prater.”
I frowned, staring at my chipping nail polish, at where my twin’s hand held mine, strong and steady.
“Why are you asking me this?” I found his gaze. “Why is it so important to you?”
Gavin rolled his lips, looking past me as his eyes lost focus. “Football has been my dream since I was five years old,” he confessed, and I knew that already without him saying so. I’d grown up in the same backyard where we played football anytime we weren’t watching it on television. “And now I’ll never play again.”
“You don’t know that for—”
“Riley,” he said, cutting me off. “I’m never going to walk again, let alone play football.”
“But they said—”
“Riley, stop!” He heaved, his manic eyes meeting mine. “I’m paralyzed from the waist down, okay? Please don’t deny that or pretend like we can change it.”
Tears flooded my eyes in an instant, and they were mirrored in my twin, one sliding silently down his cheek as he leaned toward me. I longed for so many things in that moment — namely to trade places with him, to take his pain for my own, to suffer that fate knowing he could go on to do what he’d always wanted to.
“I’ve lost my legs, sis. I can’t lose football, too.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, releasing two hot tears that burned like lava.
“I know this is a lot to ask. But I also know you’d feel more powerless if I wasn’t asking you for anything, if there was nothing you could do.”
My heart lurched at that, at how well he knew me, how true that statement was.
“Just… try. If you don’t make the team, I’ll drop it.”
“What if I make the high school team, but not college?”
He shrugged. “At least you tried.”
I swallowed, something of a smile tugging at the corner of my lips as I shook my head before looking at my twin again. “Not everyone is going to be okay with this, you know.”
“I’ll kill anyone who isn’t. And whoever I can’t handle, Zeke will.”
My blood ran cold at the mention of his best friend — a title I very much believed should be stripped after what he did.
And as if my brother conjured the devil himself, there was a soft rap of knuckles on the door frame, and Zeke popped his head in with a shamed smile where he usually sported a cocky grin. He wore a flat-billed hat backward over his black fade, and even in the baggy sweatpants and long-sleeve shirt he wore, I could see the definition of his muscles, thick and lean from years of playing football.
And his legs worked just fine, carrying him into the room so easily it made me grind my teeth.
“Hey, man,” Gavin said, lighting up at the sight of him. “You bring the goods?”
“You know I’d never let you down,” Zeke replied, holding up the brown bag of greasy burgers from my brother’s favorite place.
I snorted, standing and already heading for the door. “Not sure that’s an accurate statement anymore.”
Zeke’s shoulders slumped at my remark, and Gavin gave me a look, to which I gave one right back like what?
I turned to leave, but Gavin called out for me. He didn’t have to ask again when I turned to face him, when I saw the desperation in his eyes.
“Okay,” I said simply.
He thrust his fist into the air, and Zeke cocked a brow, glancing between us. “What did I miss?”
“Riley’s going to take my place.”
Zeke’s other eyebrow lifted to join the first one.
“She’s going to try out for the team.” He paused. “And make it. Because obviously.”
At that, Zeke smiled, his warm brown eyes finding mine. “We’ll have the best kicker in the state.”
That smile snuck under my skin like a parasite, one that made me want to scratch his eyes out. And yet, even with anger simmering low in my belly, I still saw the boy I’d grown up with when he smiled like that. I saw one of our first friends, our best friend, someone I knew without a single doubt in my mind I could trust.
Or so I thought.
I ignored him, speaking only to my brother. “I agree to try.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” Gavin said.
Then, he held out his pinky.
My heart thumped loud in my ears as I stared at that outstretched finger, doubt whispering into the depths of my soul. But I reached out anyway, hooking my pinky around his and pulling tight.
I promise.
With my brother far too smiley for his situation, I turned for the door, but Zeke slipped his hand into the crook of my arm to stop me.
That motion alone would have, even just weeks ago, made my heart flutter. It would have made my neck heat and my pulse race, would have made my sixteen-year-old knees so weak I’d have likely collapsed into a heap of bones at his feet.
Now, it made me grimace.
“Hey, if you want to run drills, I can help you get ready for tryouts.”
I ripped my arm from his grasp, leveling my murderous gaze with his.
“It’s your fault my brother is in this situation at all, you irresponsible, selfish prick,” I seethed. “So, the only thing I need from you is for you to go back in time and never be born.”
“Riley,” Gavin tried, but I held up a hand to silence him.
“I can’t keep you away from my brother. That’s his choice. But as for me?” I sneered, pointing my finger right into his chest. “Stay far away from me, Zeke Collins.”
With that threat, I left my brother and his sorry excuse for a best friend behind me.
And I got to work.
