Blindsided (Game On 2)

“Yeah. I’m just going to my room to rest my knee. When you’re done with your college work, could I talk to you?”

She nodded. “Of course. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

As I hobbled back to my room, I tried to work out exactly what I wanted to say to her. Maybe a simple apology for not understanding the choice she made was the right thing to do, but I didn’t feel like I owed her an apology. I was the one whose future was uncertain, and she’d had the information the police needed. Pushing aside the obvious fact that the information she had was wrong, she didn’t know that. And she’d decided not to report it.

I lowered myself carefully onto my bed, and used the extra pillows Janet gave me to prop my leg up. I should have thought about what I wanted to say to Isabelle before asking to speak to her, but the truth was, I’d missed her too much to have to avoid her any longer.

Hunter came back with my ice before Isabelle arrived, and I quickly explained to him that I was going to try and sort things out with her. He responded by giving me an encouraging fist bump, then left the room to find Willow.

A tense five minutes followed, until Isabelle finally walked into my room. She looked nervous as she sat on my bed, and that feeling of wishing I’d been better prepared hit me hard. I was pretty sure that just pulling her into my arms and kissing her wouldn’t be the best way to make up, but it seemed a whole hell of a lot easier than talking.

“Jesse, I’m really sorry,” Izzy said, taking me by surprise. I hadn’t expected her to be the first to speak. “When everything happened yesterday, I just … I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want Georgia to get into trouble, but I shouldn’t have been so quick to take her side.”

Her head was down, her hair hiding her face. Her voice was soft, quiet, and for the first time, I noticed the first real similarity between her and Georgia.

They both knew how to give an apology that was impossible not to accept.

“Isabelle, look at me.”

She raised her head, and I was struck by the sadness in her eyes. God, her eyes. They seemed so deep, so heavy with regret.

“Izzy, Georgia told me everything. The real truth about what happened on Saturday night. I know it wasn’t her fault, but I still think I need to report it.”

Slowly, Isabelle nodded. “I know. And I know this is awful, but I’m glad she told you, and that you’re going to report it because now I don’t have to.” She swung her hair over her shoulder to reveal a glowing red mark on her neck. “Mischa did this to me on the way home from college.”

Heaving myself up straighter, I leaned over to examine the damage. Her neck hadn’t been cut, but it looked like a painful burn.

“How did she do that?” I asked.

“She nearly decapitated me by pulling on my bag while I was trying to get away from her.” She put her hand up to the mark, and said, “It stings. And then she attempted to punch me in the face, so … yeah. I’ve had enough of her today.”

She tried to smile, but it didn’t really work. Instead, tears filled her eyes.

“I’ll call the police in the morning,” I told her. “And maybe Georgia won’t get into too much trouble.”

“Maybe.”

I reached for her hand, and when her fingers closed around mine, I knew we’d be okay.

How could it be that simple? When I was with Taylor, I never knew what she was thinking. I couldn’t read her, and when we had a fight, I had to practically get down on my knees and beg her to forgive me. Maybe it was something to do with what McCoy had said about it just feeling right. Isabelle felt right to me the way Leah felt right to him.

“How’s your knee?” Isabelle asked. “Is it still painful?”

“Yeah, but it will be for a while. I won’t be able to stop worrying about it until the surgery’s over and I know whether I can play soccer again.”

Her fingers tightened around my hand, and I could sense another apology on her lips, but she didn’t need to apologise for my injury.

“Don’t,” I said.

Isabelle gave a half smile, then sighed deeply. “We were having such a brilliant time on Saturday. Winter Wonderland, ice skating, the first half of the party. How could everything have gone so wrong? And how could …?” she stopped, and sighed again.

“What?”

She looked up at me, straight into my eyes. “How could the one day we spent apart feel like forever?”

Her eyes still shone with tears, and I shifted myself up into a sitting position, then shuffled myself closer to her, the ice on my knee sliding off and hitting the bed.

“I felt awful,” she went on. “For letting you down, for siding with Georgia when you were right. The right thing to do was obvious. But I couldn’t stand the idea of Georgia losing everything. I know that you stand to lose so much more, but … she’s my sister. And I know she’s not a bad person. Stupid sometimes, but not bad.”