Page 109 of Half-Court Heat

“My world orbits around the game,” she said. “How would I have time for anything else?”

Jazz’s words landed a little too close to home. “I’m definitely far from being an expert. Eva and I …”

“Sorry,” Jazz cut in quickly. “I didn’t mean to bring that up. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

I kept my eyes on the floor as I dribbled. “Yeah.”

Yeah. It was the only word I could handle. I knew Jazz would have listened to me with a sympathetic ear, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words out loud. It would have made it too real.Eva and I were fighting.

We hadn’t spoken in days.And I didn’t know how we were going to resolve this latest round of bad timing, busy schedules, miscommunication, and petty jealousy.

We fell into a comfortable rhythm after that. I shot until my shoulders ached and my legs started to feel the burn—muscle memory working overtime while my brain finally,finallyshut up. Jazz didn’t press me with more questions about Eva. She only passed me the ball and offered the occasional correction or encouragement, like she’d been doing since we were eighteen.

I plopped down on a bench and drained half of my water bottle in one go. Jazz tossed me a towel, then collapsed beside me with a satisfied sigh.

“That was almost a full workout,” she said, wiping her forehead. “You’re gonna sleep like a baby.”

I grinned, still breathing heavy. “That’s the plan. Hydrate, nap, lock in.”

Jazz bumped her shoulder into mine. “You got this, Lex.”

I didn’t feel fearless heading into the championship game, but I wasn’t spiraling either. My head was clear. My body felt good. That was enough for now.

After a quick shower,I grabbed my gear and headed for the exit. The morning sun had climbed high in the sky, heating the concrete outside of the practice facility. Jazz followed close behind me, still gabbing about Freya and whether or not it was insane to consider flying to Belgium for a second date.

I was tuned in, laughing even, until I looked up. For a second, I thought I was imagining her.

She was leaning against a black SUV, her hair loose and framing her face, hands tucked into the pockets of her sleeveless jumpsuit. No cameras. No entourage. Just Eva.

The world didn’t stop, but I did.

Jazz noticed, too. She gave me a small, encouraging nod before veering toward the parking lot to give us space.

I walked toward her, my gym bag slung over one shoulder.

Eva didn’t move. She watched my approach, her eyes obscured by dark sunglasses.

“Hey,” she casually greeted. She tilted her head to the side. “Can we talk?”

The doorman said “welcome back,”when he held open the front door of the boutique hotel.

I tried not to react, but I could only stifle my curiosity as far as the elevator.

“How long have you been in Miami?”

“A few days.” Eva didn’t look at me. She stared straight ahead, her reflection doubled in the brushed metal walls as the elevator climbed. “The Commissioner and some team owners wanted a tour of the Miami facilities,” she said. “They asked me to play tour guide since I know the layout.”

“Were you at the semifinals?”

She shook her head. “No. I watched from my room. I didn’t want to be a distraction.”

I snorted at the irony. “Too late.”

I normally didn’t have a hard time shutting out the rest of the world when it came to basketball. Once I was on the court, the outside noise typically fell away. But I hadn’t been able to do that when it came to her.

Her gaze slid sideways. “It wasn’t your best game.”

I sucked in a breath. “Nope.”