Page 75 of Half-Court Heat

There was no way for her to know that, but somehow seeing the words and knowing that they came from her, helped to settle my uneasy stomach.

Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?

No. Just wanted you to know.

Text me when she’s in recovery, okay?

I will. Love you.

Love you, too, sweetie.

I felt steadier upon leaving the restroom, like I’d found my legs again. I took one more detour, this time to a vending machine in the hallway. I scanned the vending machine’s scant offerings before deciding on a sleeve of trail mix. The granola bar I’d grabbed at the Miami airport had done its job that morning, but it was long gone, and my stomach was starting to hollow out in protest.

I watched the vending machine’s coil twist and eventually evacuate my selection. I bent to retrieve the overpriced packet of nuts and raisins and straightened when I heard a voice.

“Hey.”

I turned to see a young white woman standing near the vending machine. She looked about my age—early twenties, brunette hair pulled into a low ponytail. She wore jeans and a sweater. No badge, no scrubs.

“Hi,” I said warily.

“I saw you sitting with the Montgomerys,” she said, jerking her thumb in the direction of the waiting room. “I just wanted to say that Eva’s going to be fine. Dr. Khatri’s one of the best ortho surgeons in the country.”

I blinked, thrown by her words and appearance. “Do you work here?”

“No. Someday, maybe. I just started med school.”

“Oh.” I still didn’t know what to say. “Cool.”

She tilted her head, studying me. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

I hesitated. “Should I?”

“Kate Gillespie.”

I took a step back—not physically, but somewhere deep in my chest.

Kate. Eva’s high school girlfriend. I didn’t know her personally—we hadn’t played together or against each other in either college or U19 ball—but I knewofher. She’d been recruited to the top college basketball program in New England, but injuries had derailed her playing career before it had ever gotten started. She’d torn her ACL twice, all before the age of twenty. Hers was the cautionary tale whispered about in every college weight room in the country.

I forced a polite smile. “Sorry. I didn’t recognize you.”

“I guess we all look a little different when we’re not sweating and in uniform,” she said with a dry chuckle. “Anyway. I should get back.”

I watched in silent alarm as Kate turned and began walking in the same direction I needed to go. Back to the waiting room. Back to Eva’s parents.

I followed at a distance, half-hoping she’d turn down a different corridor. But she didn’t. She moved with casual confidence, like she’d walked these halls a hundred times before—and maybe she had.

When we stepped into the waiting room, Mrs. Montgomery stood the instant she saw her.

“Kate!” she exclaimed, her voice lifting in delight. “Oh, honey, look at you.”

The transformation was jarring. Gone was the cool reserve I’d been met with. In its place bloomed full-bodied affection.

Mr. Montgomery rose too, a slower, more subdued greeting, but still far more welcoming than the curt nod I’d gotten when I’d first walked in.

“It’s been too long,” Mrs. Montgomery gushed, pulling Kate into a hug. “You look wonderful.”

“I’m trying,” Kate said modestly. “How are you holding up?”