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Fremont starts off strong, scoring six to nothing, and it remains that way throughout the game. The fundamental difference between Fremont and the other teams is that their defense isstrong, so when Jace is double-teamed the entire time, he struggles to break free. It’s frustrating as hell to watch, but Jace—just like when he scores—gives nothing away. He remains passive. Focused on the next move. The next play. With five minutes to go in the first half, we’re down by eight, and Jace is attempting to score from a foot outside the three-point line. He jumps for the shot, but before the ball even leaves his hand, he’s fouled—body checked by one of his defenders, and he falls to the ground.
I’m on my feet, hand to my mouth, my lungs void of oxygen while Jace lies on the floor, completely unmoving.
It’s silent.
All but for the beating of my heart.
Not again.
Not again.
Not again.
I feel Dad’s hand on my shoulder, but I can’t move. Can’t breathe.
Not until Jace does. Initially, he moves his hand to his ribs, right where he’d been shouldered. And then he lifts his head, his eyes instantly finding mine. “I’m okay,” he mouths, and the crowd is on their feet, stomping, cheering, clapping.
I swallow, but my throat’s too dry, and Dad’s pulling me down. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothes once I’m seated. “Jace is okay.”
Jonah helps Jace to his feet, while the other players line the key, but Jace doesn’t go to the free-throw line.
He comes to me.
Squatting down in front of me, he reaches up, moves my hair behind my ear. “I’m okay,” he repeats, and I nod, try to calm my breathing. “It’s going to happen again with this team, and you know why?”
“Rivera!” his couch yells. “We got a game to win!”
Jace doesn’t respond to him, just keeps his eyes on me.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I’m the best.” There’s no cockiness in his words, and there’s no lie in them either.
“Yeah, well, I don’t like it,” I mumble, my eyebrows furrowed. I motion to his opposition. “And I don’t like them.”
Jace smiles at my words, one wide enough to show his teeth. “I’ll be sure to let them know,” he says before standing to full height. He takes his two free throws, sinks them both.
Within minutes of the second half, there’s a switch in the air, and Jace begins hisdomination. His two defenders often become three, and still, he manages to score against them and push us into the lead by two. Sammy and Jeannie are wild with excitement, and with thirty seconds left on the clock, it’s a standing crowd. It’s obvious that Jace’s opponents are gassed, physically fatigued from defending Jace for the past twenty minutes, and Jace—he looks like he could go another thousand minutes more.
Jonah throws a behind-the-back pass to Jace, and Jace slowly dribbles the ball toward me. Within arm’s reach of me, he stops, lazily bounces the ball between his legs, as if putting on a show just for me. The same two opponents he’s had all night guard him, their legs spread, hands out in front of them. “Hey, guess what?” Jace asks them, and they look from each other, back to Jace, confused. “My girlfriend said she doesn’t like you.” And then he shoots, fromhalf-court, and… nothing but net.
The buzzer sounds, and he turns to me. “Told you I’m the best,” he says, and then he smirks as he runs away, joining the rest of his team.
44
Jace
I don’t generally like to hear the cheers or the praise of the crowd waiting outside the arena after the games. All it does is cause me to lose focus on what’s next. Sure, we won a tournament, but it was only against eleven other teams, and it’s the pre-season. Half the players are out of shape and unprepared. We have a lot more work to do before we can celebrate.
It’s dark out now, and with my headphones on, blasting a track from Assassin’s Creed, I walk with my head down toward my van.
I texted Harlow as soon as I accessed my phone, just to say thank you for being here. She didn’t have to show up, but I’m glad she did. Seeing that fear in her eyes when I was knocked down was all the catalyst I needed to double down, push harder, stronger.
And so I did.
As I near my van, I find my keys in the side zipper of my gym bag and look up to unlock it, stopping in my tracks when I see Harlow and her dad standing beside it. I immediately shove my headphones around my neck, my heart rate kicking up a notch as I step toward them. I grin from ear to ear, uncontrolled and unabashed, and the onlything I can think to say is, “Y’all waited for me?” It’s the first time anyone’s ever waited for me,specifically, and there’s a tightening in my chest—one I can’t explain.
“Of course we did!” Harlow laughs out, and then she’s in my arms, and I’m holding on to her so tight, I fear might possibly break her. I nuzzle her neck, inhale the scent of that perfume that drives me to the brink of insanity, and I can’t let her go. Don’t want to. “You were amazing!” she exclaims. “I can’t get over it!”