She wasn't

She pulled off the headphones and tossed them at his feet in defiance. “My name is Cassie.”

Her captor opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, somebody else walked into the room. This man was older, maybe late thirties, but handsome and lean in his sports jacket. He seemed very relaxed, even amused by the situation. “I’ll take it from here, Alex.” Alex sniffed and made his way out into the hallway, and then the newcomer sat down at the foot of her bed. “Haven’t had the best year, have you, Cassie?”

Cassie hugged herself, unsure how to respond. She thought back to a conversation she’d had around a month before her blackout…

The tennis ball machine shot another one over the net, and Cassie lobbed it back easily enough. She seethed and held back a curse as pain flashed through her arm. Her form was good, but not as good as she would need to get back into competition.

“Better,” Arnold shouted from the end of the court, but she wondered if he was just trying to make her feel better. She gave her coach a knowing grin. After a few more marginal swings, she walked over to grab her water bottle. He patted her on the shoulder. “Just keep at it, Kid. We‘ll make you a star yet.”

She sipped from the bottle and then wiped her face off with a towel. “I’m not worried, just impatient.” Cassie had had some trouble since the elbow injury, but as Arnold had assured her several times over, it was a temporary setback. They both had big plans for her career, and not just for her to be the next Anna Kournikova as so many were predicting. Cassie didn’t mind if people thought she looked cute in a tennis skirt, but she wanted to be remembered for her wins.

Arnold smiled and adjusted his beat-up baseball cap, which made him look younger than fifty somehow. “Well, trust me, it won’t be much longer.”