Page 34 of Half-Court Heat (Hoops & Heartstrings #2)

Chapter

Twenty-Two

T he highway leaving Boston’s Logan International Airport better resembled a parking lot the way traffic wasn’t moving.

My rideshare crawled along, hemmed in by orange cones and blinking signs about construction delays.

I’d taken the earliest flight out of Miami that morning with every intention of getting to the hospital well before Eva’s surgery.

But apparently the Massachusetts Department of Transportation hadn’t factored me into their road improvement timeline.

It had been weeks since Eva and her mom had left Miami for Boston, weeks of me counting down practices and off-days until I could be here. Now that the day had finally come, I was stuck in gridlock.

By the time I finally reached Mass General, I was a wreck. I stumbled through the sliding glass doors with an overnight bag slung over my shoulder and travel sweat clinging to my skin. I barely had time to ask a passing nurse for directions before I found myself stepping into the waiting room.

Virginia and Clyde Montgomery were already there, poised and composed in a way that only made me feel worse.

I’d wanted to be there for Eva before she’d been prepped for surgery to reassure her that everything would be fine.

But I’d also wanted to be there on time to prove to Eva’s parents that I could be counted on.

I loved their daughter, and I wanted to show that she was my priority.

Instead, I looked like a scatter-brained disaster who couldn’t be trusted to show up when it mattered the most.

Mrs. Montgomery looked up from her phone. Her gaze slid over me, unimpressed.

“Alexandra,” she said coolly. “Nice of you to stop by.”

My apology caught in my throat. I bit it back. It wasn’t my fault Boston was fixing the damn roads. I was doing my best.

Another woman in the room stood to greet me. “Lex Bennet. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Veronica Haddish,” she introduced herself.

“Oh. Hey.”

I hadn’t realized Eva’s publicist had made the trip, too. The waiting room was turning into quite the entourage.

Veronica Haddish was striking in a corporate, no-nonsense kind of way—tall, lean, and impeccably put-together, with dark-brown skin and blunt-cut bangs that framed her angular face.

Her tailored cream blazer was so pristine it practically glowed under the hospital’s fluorescent lights.

Her stiletto heels were silent as she stepped forward to shake my hand.

Every part of her looked intentional, from her lipstick combination to the precise arch of her eyebrows.

“I’m sorry about that energy drink pitch,” she said. “I apologized to Eva, but I wanted the chance to personally apologize to you, too. If I had known they were going to use that particular angle, I wouldn’t have wasted your time.”

I glanced in the Montgomerys’ direction, feeling awkward all over again. This wasn’t an appropriate setting for a business meeting, after all.

“It’s no big deal,” I found myself saying, desperate to shut down the conversation. “Water under the bridge.”

I found a chair a few seats down from Eva’s parents—close enough to be seen, but not close enough to start a conversation.

I tried to relax and get comfortable, knowing that the wait was going to take some time.

The surgery itself was only supposed to be two hours, but there would be added recovery time as Eva woke up from the general anesthesia.

Technically, the procedure was relatively routine—outpatient, in fact—but that didn’t mean any of this was easy.

The stakes were high. A mistake over the next two hours could tear away Eva’s biggest passion, her livelihood, the reason she got out of bed in the morning.

I’d flirted briefly with the fear that I might never play basketball again beyond a pick-up game at the YMCA when I’d injured my wrist. It was a short-lived doomsday scenario, however, considering I’d still been drafted to the pros.

The road to recovery for Eva would be far more intense and prolonged. And depending on what happened in the next two hours, she might not ever return to her previous form.

Eventually, the anxiety and worry proved to be too great. I hopped up from my waiting room chair like my coach had called for me to enter the game. I felt the curious gaze of Eva’s parents and her publicist.

“Just going to the bathroom,” I explained, my throat tightening.

I stalked out of the waiting room and followed the hallway signs until I found the restroom. I locked myself in an empty stall. It was stupid, but I needed the semi-privacy of a public bathroom to fall apart a little.

I pulled out my phone and texted my mom. My fingers shook, prolonging the simple message.

Hey. How are you?

I’m good. How are you?

I knew my text was unexpected—suspicious, even. My mom wasn’t a big texter; she preferred when I called. But I didn’t trust myself not to cry on the phone the moment I heard my mom’s voice.

Eva’s in surgery.

Oh, honey.

Everything’s going to be fine.

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 knew of her.

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?”

“We’re managing,” Mr. Montgomery replied, his voice gruff with concern. “It helps knowing you’re here though. Eva always did trust you.”

I hovered near the doorway for a second too long before retreating to the same seat I’d claimed earlier. I sank back into the stiff chair, the trail mix forgotten in the front pocket of my hoodie.

I tried not to eavesdrop on their conversation, but it was hard not to hear the fondness in their voices, the shared history. Kate laughed at something Mrs. Montgomery said, and I hated how easy it all sounded.

I kept my eyes fixed on a framed nature print across the room—a forest clearing with no discernible focal point. Just trees and light and fog. I focused on that instead of the image of Kate slipping back seamlessly into Eva’s world like she’d never left.

Eventually, a woman in pink scrubs and white tennis shoes came into the waiting room.

“Montgomery family?”

Eva’s parents stood. The hospital staffer smiled kindly. “She’s awake,” she said. “Everything went well. You can see her now.”

The nurse disappeared with Eva’s parents, their voices trailing off as they headed down the hall. I stayed in my seat, unsure whether I was supposed to follow or wait until they came back. I was still trying to decide my next action when Veronica Haddish lowered herself into the chair beside mine.

“Now that we’ve got a minute,” she said, her voice low and her tone all business, “I wanted to touch base about next steps. Especially as it pertains to media framing.”

I blinked at her. “Media framing?”