Justin's POV
The court was empty when I got there, just the way I liked it. It was late in the afternoon and the atmosphere was as peaceful as I wanted. I dropped my duffel on the bleachers, peeled off my hoodie, and rolled the basketball from one hand to the other. My right hand, the one that had been giving me hell for weeks, still ached if I flexed it too hard.
I started dribbling slowly, letting the sound bounce around the gym, thud, thud, thud. It always calmed me. The ball and the floor spoke the same language.
The first shot stung. I knew it would. I set my feet at the free throw line, lifted, released, perfect arc, clanged off the rim. Pain shot across my palm, sharp and hot, and I grimaced as I caught the rebound.
“Alright,” I muttered under my breath. “Again.” I wasn’t about
