Page 79 of Half-Court Heat

I nodded slowly, sensing the unspoken weight behind her words.

“But another part of me thinks Boston is the better choice.”

I smiled faintly, playing along. “I hear Boston has a world-class healthcare system.”

Eva laughed quietly, her breath catching slightly. “You and my mom both.”

She paused, brushing her hand over mine where it rested on her stomach. The moment felt tender and vulnerable.

“Chicago would be better for the team,” she continued. “But the thought of rehabbing my knee all day and coming home to an empty condo ... it just bums me out.”

I raised an eyebrow, teasing her. “You could always get a roommate. Jazz is pretty chill.”

She worried her bottom lip rather than take my suggestion seriously. “Would you think me terribly selfish if I chose Boston?”

The truth? I wouldn’t think she was selfish at all. I’d be relieved. It meant I could have her in the same city as me for just a little longer. I didn’t trust myself to be objective about that.

“I can’t make that decision for you,” I said softly, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “But you need to do what’s best for you. Don’t worry about optics or what the internet trolls will think.”

Eva let out a long breath. A wince slipped across her face as she shifted in bed.

The bedroom door creaked, and Mrs. Montgomery’s voice floated through the crack. “Eva, you should get some rest.”

“I will,” Eva called back. The sound of footsteps retreated down the hall.

The silence settled between us again.

“Stay with me. Sleep with me.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

I couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped me. “Your mother would not approve.”

Eva reached for my hand. She squeezed it gently, her expression softening. “I love you.”

I leaned in to press a kiss against her knuckles. “I’ll be back tomorrow, okay? We’ll binge whatever mindless TV you want and eat all the Rocky Road ice cream your stomach can handle.”

Her smile was slow and sleepy. “Deal.”

I stepped out of the Montgomerys’house, the cool evening air hitting me sharply. I’d gotten used to Miami’s constant warmth; I had to remind myself it was February in New England. My mind was still on Eva—her soft smile, her quiet vulnerability, the decisions she had to make about her recovery. I was already thinking ahead, planning for tomorrow, when I heard a voice.

“Hello again,” came the sing-song tone.

I froze. My hand was still on the front door, and I turned slowly to face her.

Kate Gillespie stood at the end of the Montgomerys’ walkway, a slight smirk tugging at her lips.

“Oh. Hey,” I said. I tried to keep my tone even, despite the way my stomach knotted.

She started to walk in the direction of me and the front door, her long strides making quick work of the winding walkway. Shedidn’t explain herself or even speak; she only waved a little as she passed me.

I watched her move toward the front door like she had every right to be there. She didn’t ring the doorbell or knock. She tugged on the door handle and walked inside.

Any goodwill or serenity I’d felt about my visit was immediately dashed away. Ugly, foreboding feelings churned in my stomach when the front door closed with Kate inside.

I letmyself into Mathilde’s apartment, distracted by the weight of recent events—the visit to Eva’s house, Kate Gillespie waltzing in like she owned the place, and the tightness in my chest that wouldn’t seem to ease. I threw my bag on the couch; the sound of it hitting the cushion punctuated my frustration.

“Eva’s got us on rotation. Real slick,” I announced. I paced a few steps and then back again. I could feel the heat building in my face and the anger spiking. “Kate shows up, just like that, like she hasn’t been out of the picture for years. And you know what really gets me? She doesn’t even have the decency to knock. Just—boom, walks right in like she’s still got access to Eva’s life.”

I’d mentioned having seen Kate the previous day at the hospital. Mathilde had talked me through my insecurities the previous evening. This second round, however, might take longer.