Chapter 1

The roar of the crowd still echoed in my ears, a phantom limb of a dream.

Friday night lights. The crisp Texas air. My arm, a coiled spring, ready to unleash the game-winning pass.

That was twelve hours ago.

Now, pain.

A blinding, jagged thing that ripped through my right arm, my legs.

They'd dragged me behind the bleachers of Maverick Stadium, after the showcase.

My cleats crunched on gravel, then nothing.

I woke up to the smell of cheap beer and blood. Mine.

"He's the star quarterback, ain't he?" one of them slurred, his face a blur.

A boot connected with my ribs. I heard a crack.

My throwing arm. They twisted it. A sound like splintering wood.

Then blackness.

When I surfaced, sirens wailed in the distance.

My mom, Martha, was there. Her usually pristine apron, smudged with dirt. Her eyes, wide with a terror I'd never seen.

"Ethan! Oh, my baby!"

Her hands, smelling faintly of yeast and sugar from the bakery, fluttered over me.

"Who did this? I'll kill them! I swear, Ethan, I'll find them!"

My sister, Lily, a sophomore at UT Austin, was on the phone, her voice sharp.

"Yes, the best. Money is no object. Get Dr. Harding on the line now!"

I was bundled into an ambulance. The pain was a living thing, clawing its way up my throat.

My NFL dream, the scholarship to A&M, shattered like the bones in my arm.

Lying on the gurney, a wave of nausea hit me.

Then I heard it.

Mom's voice, low, urgent, not meant for my ears.

"Lily, that little chat with Coach Miller about Caleb getting more reps... we might need to push harder now."

Lily's reply was even softer. "Mom, sending those guys... was that really necessary? Even if you wanted to clear the path for Caleb, to make sure Ethan missed the combine... this is too much."

My mom's hand, which had been stroking my forehead, stilled. She dabbed at my sweat with a tissue.

A sigh. "Caleb's been in Ethan's shadow for too long. Ethan's so... intense about football. This was just to... slow him down. Give Caleb his shot. I'll make it up to Ethan. The bakery, it's all his. That's more than enough."

But Mom, football was my life.

A hot tear escaped, tracing a path through the grime on my cheek.

The perfect family. The supportive mom, the caring sister.

All a lie.

A paramedic leaned over me. "He's losing consciousness! Blood pressure dropping!"

Mom's voice, suddenly loud again, full of maternal panic. "Do something! Save my son!"

She was a good actress.

Too good.