Page 17 of Half-Court Heat

“I’ll get you an actual photo if you want one that badly.”

She made a little tutting sound. “You make it sound like a crime for a mother to want a picture of her daughter with her … girlfriend? Is that what you two are?”

Guilt tugged at my stomach for having kept such a big thing from my mom. She’d always been supportive, if not overly so, of the decisions I’d made in the past.

I gently returned the frame to the mantle.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” I apologized in earnest. “We only made it official right before Eva was traded to Chicago. And then she wanted to keep things between the two of us. With both of us traveling, it could have fizzled out before it even really started.”

“It’s okay, honey,” she allowed. “I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

I continued to stare at the fuzzy paparazzi photo and our out-of-focus faces. My mom was right—wedidlook insanely happy.

“Honestly, it was kind of the most natural thing in the world—once we stopped hating each other,” I chuckled.

My mom laughed, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Did I ever tell you that’s how your father and I started?”

“What—hating each other?”

“Well, hate’s a strong word,” she considered. “But I did find him deeply annoying.”

I leaned on the kitchen counter. “I don’t think I’ve heard this story.”

“Oh, it’s not that exciting. You know we grew up together in the same little town. Dated in high school, went to Madison together for college. Never really were apart.” She reached for a sponge and started wiping a counter that was already clean. “He was always just …there.And then one day, I looked over and realized I’d never wanted anyone else to be there.”

“How did you know it was going to work with Dad?”

“Oh, now you’re really testing my memory,” she said, chuckling. “I’ve been with your father for so long, I hardly remember my life before him.”

“I guess I’m just worried this is all puppy love,” I admitted. I picked at the countertop’s edge with my thumbnail. “I feel so deeply for her. So soon. It scares me.”

We’d gone from rivals to roommates to something tender and consuming without much time to pause and catch ourbreath. And I loved it—I lovedher—but sometimes I wondered if we’d skipped too many steps.

I didn’t want to be someone she loved because of convenience. Because we were drafted together. Because we were young and playing house in a new city and it felt good to have someone who understood all the pressure.

What if that’s all it was? A phase. A comfort. A story we’d look back on years from now and laugh about over dinner with other people.

I hated thinking that. But the thought came anyway.

“Well, if it’s meant to be, you’ll figure it out,” she said simply.

I let my mom’s words sit with me.

“How do you like Chicago?” she asked, switching gears like she always did when something started feeling heavy.

“It’s fine. Big,” I shrugged. “But at least Jazz and Eva are there.”

Well, Eva wassometimesthere.

“You should have brought Jasmine up with you,” my mom said. “It would have been like old times, you two girls here, raiding the fridge and staying up late.”

“She had a thing,” I said vaguely. “And I kind of wanted the quiet.”

My mom gave me a look like she didn’t quite believe me but wasn’t going to push. Instead, she rinsed a coffee mug. “What are your plans while you’re in town?”

I shrugged. “Nothing really. I’ll probably go for a run later, but other than that, I’ve got nothing on my To Do list.”

“Good,” she said. “You can help me with my To Do list then. The garage needs some serious attention.”