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She coughed and blew out a cleansing breath before she took a moment to determine what play was being run and finding her position. Over the course of

the season the team had become adept at giving a member time to catch up, even when the ball was in play. It was just understood that even in the heat

of the moment there were moments when you needed to take an extra breath.

The 40/42 score didn’t last long and suddenly Cat found herself looking at a 43/42 score and cursing a blue streak, even if it was in her head. Looking at

the game clock she knew that the next eight minutes would make or break the Badgers, Dylan and even her own career. They needed this win to get to the

championships and they all wanted it.

It had to happen.

She called a second time out and led the team back to the bench, where Dylan looked at her with some concern.

“You hurt?”

“No, I’m mad.”

When the rest of the team gathered round, Cat took the playbook and dropped it to the floor. “Forget the book. Sometimes you just can’t play by the book.

So here’s what we’re going to do…”

Dylan stepped back and just watched Cat work.

Cat looked at the clock.

Ten seconds to go.

Badgers in control of the ball with Angela leading the charge to the net.

Cat knew the most important thing right now was protecting Angela, making sure she got to make that three point shot. Every member of the team seemed

to be working on telepathy as they formed a protective circle around their forward. Even as the Spartans tried to find a hole to get through the Badgers

managed to close them up before anyone could even get close to Tippens.

At the three point line, with three seconds left on the clock, Cat turned to find a forearm coming directly at her throat, which she couldn’t get away from.

Seeing stars as she fell back, she could barely make out the form of a Spartan player knocking Angela off her feet.

There seemed to be only a slight buzzing in Cat’s ears and she wondered briefly if she hit her head when she hit the floor, then she realized the buzzing

was the roar of the crowd and through the tears in her eyes she can make out 63/65 score.

We did it. Cat smiled as she closed her eyes.

She knew she hadn’t been there long when she opened her eyes and found Dylan leaning over her.

“How bad are you?”

“Hey,” Cat smiled, “We won didn’t we.”

“I mean hurt.”

“I don’t think I am. Help me up.”

Dylan pulled Cat to her feet, sheltering her, since was a bit unsteady on her feet. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m okay, just banged up.” Cat smiled at the coach, but then noticed the medical staff hovering over Angela. “Shit. What did they do?”

“We’re not sure yet.” Dylan released Cat, who went to her teammate and knelt down by her head.

“Hey Tipper,” Cat used Angela’s rarely used nickname. “How ya doing?”

“I’m good, but my leg seems to have opinions of its own.”

“Well, no matter what happens, you won the game, hero.” Nudging her friend with an elbow earned the grin she’d been hoping for, and she tousled

Angela’s hair as the med techs rushed in and deposited the downed woman on a stretcher.

Dylan sat in the hospital waiting room watching as every member of the Badgers paced back and forth waiting for the final word on their injured player.

“Well hell,” Chaney sat down in a chair across from Dylan. “If her ACL is torn, we may as well kiss the championship good bye.”

“No way,” Cat straightened up from her spot against a wall. “If her ACL is torn that bites and it sucks for Angela and we’ll have to go after the

championship. It won’t be easy and it won’t be fun but we can win it. We have to, for her. For us.”

Dylan stood and stretched, it had been a long night and her plans of buying her team dinner and then a quiet night with Cat had gone down the tubes the

second the team doctor had made a preliminary diagnosis of a torn ACL. After that the entire team demanded to go to the hospital and wait. “Cat’s right.

We have to win it and we will. For us.”

*******

Stripping off her scrub gown and gloves, Kelly Norton opened the door to the treatment room and beckoned Dylan inside. Once the coach’s broad shoulders

had cleared the swinging doors, Norton grabbed hold of her elbow and led her to a quieter corner of the room, away from the exam table and the techs

who were fitting Tippens with a heavy brace.

“Good news or bad news?” Norton asked, keeping an eye on the action in the center of the room.

“C’mon, Kelly, I don’t have time to play word games. Just tell me how she is.”

“Alright. It’s her ACL, but it’s not torn, just badly sprained. She’ll need a brace and crutches, and a shitload of physical therapy, but I don’t have to cut on

her, and if she follows my orders, she’ll play again.”

“Thank God,” Dylan breathed, genuinely relieved.

“But not this season.”

“That’s fine. I don’t care about this season, Kelly. I care about her career.”

Norton met the intense blue eyes and nodded, her own gaze softening perceptibly. “I know, D. I know. She’s gonna be plenty sore for awhile, but she’ll be

okay.”

“Good. Can I see her?”