Page 40 of Half-Court Heat (Hoops & Heartstrings #2)

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

W hen athletes try to relax, it tends to be a bit chaotic.

We don’t know how to do ‘chill.’ We show up to a beach day like it’s a training session: stocked coolers, an assortment of beach chairs and towels, Bluetooth speakers, and at least a few volleyballs and footballs.

Jazz and I had barely made it off the boardwalk before we heard the commotion down the shore.

“Is that Dez?” Jazz asked, squinting past her sunglasses. “Please tell me she’s not trying to race Briana in the sand.”

My aforementioned teammate flew past us, a blur of limbs and trash talk, with Briana chasing behind.

“Turning our day off into the damn Combine,” I snorted.

Further down the beach, Arika was setting up a massive shade tent with Mya and her wife, Penelope.

The three of them were deliberating which side should face the water.

Mya and Penny’s daughter, Reed, who couldn’t have been more than three or four years old, dug holes in the sand with a plastic shovel.

Rayah was stretched out on a nearby towel like it was a magazine cover. The strategic cutouts of her one-piece bathing suit left little to the imagination. The white fabric glowed against her golden skin tone.

She raised a manicured eyebrow when Jazz and I approached.

“Look who finally decided to join the party,” she clucked. “We were about to send up a flare.”

“Traffic,” I said with a shrug.

“Lies,” Jazz countered. “This one spent twenty minutes deciding between swimsuits.”

“I did not!” I defended myself.

Jazz grinned and dropped her bag on the sand. “Okay, maybe it was only ten.”

I kicked off my slides and tugged my oversized T-shirt over my head. A few shrill wolf whistles filled my ears.

“Damn, Lex!” Arika called out from under the tent. “Warn the children before you bring the six-pack out in public.”

“Did your torso get its own trainer or something?” Mya asked, eyebrows practically disappearing into her hairline.

“Nah,” Rayah added, openly smirking. “Take that shirt off again—I need to see that in slow motion.”

I rolled my eyes, but I could feel the flush creeping up my neck. My stomach tightened—not from embarrassment, just instinct. I wasn’t flexing. Not really.

A sharp breath and a thud to my right broke the moment. Dez collapsed dramatically onto the sand beside us, gasping like she’d been doing wind sprints. Briana followed a few steps later, far less theatrical, with that easy, gazelle-like gait.

“Who won?” I asked.

“Me, obviously,” Briana said, completely unbothered. “Old heads have stamina, baby. These young bucks gas out too quick.”

Dez, still heaving, lifted a middle finger.

Everyone was in a good mood that morning. The sun was a little brutal, but the breeze off the water made it tolerable. Penny brought out cut-up watermelon, and the only thing we argued about was who got to control the playlist.

We talked about everything and nothing—the weather, team standings, who had the worst coaching staff of the league’s six teams. Arika and Dez started a competition over who could throw a football the farthest, which resulted in Mya nearly taking out a seagull. Even I felt myself loosening up.

I was half-listening to a debate between Dez and Briana about which city had the best postgame hangout spots when Rayah scooted over, a bottle of sunscreen in one hand.

“Hey, bestie,” she said, tossing her long blonde hair over one shoulder. “Mind helping your girl out?”

The bottle landed in my lap with a plastic thunk.

It would have been a routine request if it had been anyone else but her. If she hadn’t made it known that she was interested in off-the-court activities. And if Jazz, seated right beside me, wasn’t also aware of Rayah’s offer.

I felt Jazz’s stare from behind the lenses of her mirrored sunglasses. Twin laser beams.

I opened the bottle and squeezed a dollop of sunscreen into my palm. I rubbed my hands together, dividing the lotion. My hands hovered above Rayah’s shoulders, unsure. This was stupid. This was fine. Totally above board.

I spread the sunscreen across her back in smooth, practiced motions—shoulder to spine, down toward the small of her back, nowhere inappropriate. My hands were clinical. Efficient.

And yet.

Everything about her was warm and sculpted, lean muscles shifting under my touch. She was quiet in a way that felt deliberate, like she was letting the silence get in my head.

“How’s Eva doing?” she asked finally, like she’d just remembered to be polite.

“She’s good,” I grunted.

“Is she coming down anytime soon?”

“Maybe. Depends on what the doctors and her physical therapists say, I guess.”

We hadn’t spoken about her coming down for a visit. I hadn’t wanted to push or tempt her to do anything that might set her recovery back.

“That’s cool.” She swept her long blonde hair further to one side, exposing more skin. “Y’all are cute.”

I rubbed in the last of the sunscreen and pulled my hands back. “All set.”

She twisted her torso to hit me with a dimpled smile. “Thanks. I knew you’d have good hands.”

My mouth twitched, but I didn’t smile back.

Rayah pushed up to her feet and stretched her arms above her head. My traitorous eyes swept up the expanse of her lean, muscled figure and lingered on the twin protrusions that hinted at pierced nipples.

Without another glance in my direction, she walked towards the water’s edge.

Once she was out of earshot, Jazz turned on me.

“She’s trying it with you.”

“I know,” I muttered. I scrubbed my hands on the sand like it might undo something.

“And you’re letting her.”

“It’s innocent,” I said. “We’re friends.”

“No, we’re friends,” Jazz cut in flatly. “And even then I wouldn’t be asking you to lotion up my undercarriage.”

“All you’d have to do is ask, Jazz.” I batted my eyelashes, trying to play it off.

“You be careful, Lex.” Her voice was light, but the warning underneath wasn’t. “Sun’s not the only thing trying to burn you out here.”

“It was just sunscreen, Jazz.” I sat with my arms on my knees and stared at nothing. “I wasn’t trying to flirt.”

“I believe you.”

I chewed on my lower lip. “But it probably looked like I was.”

“It definitely looked like you were.”

Silence stretched between us, broken only by the wind, waves, and the shouts of a group playing paddleball down the beach.

“Eva trusts me,” I said quietly.

“I know she does.”

“But she probably wouldn’t love that.”

“Nope.”

I finally turned to my best friend. “It’s not like I’d actually … you know. Cheat.”

Jazz lifted her sunglasses and looked at me for real. “Look. I get it. You’re lonely, you’re bored, you’re living in a rental with all this chaotic lesbian energy. But you can’t play dumb. Not about this.”

“I’m just tired,” I admitted. “Of not seeing her. Of not knowing if we’ll still make sense when the new season starts. It’s easier not to think about it when I’m on the court. But today …” I trailed off.

“Today you put lotion on the one girl who’d leap at the chance to be your rebound if you slipped.”

I flinched again.

Jazz reached over and squeezed my arm. “Lex. You’re not an idiot. So don’t act like one.”

I nodded, slow and heavy.

We sat in the sun until the shadows shifted and people started pulling food out of the coolers they’d brought. Mya and Penny waved us over, but I stayed put. Instead, I dug my phone out of my bag and stared at Eva’s most recent text.

Just finished PT. Hit 95 degrees on flexion today. My therapist was impressed. I wish you were here to see it. Miss you.

I stared at the words for a long time before sending a text of my own.

I miss you. More than I know what to do with.

She didn’t reply right away.

Out on the sand, someone suggested a group swim. Dez yelled something about sharks. Arika threw a flip-flop at her. Rayah caught my eye once, just for a second, but I didn’t look back.

My phone buzzed a few moments later.

I know the feeling.

We’ll get through it, Lex. One day at a time. You and me.

My stomach twisted, weirdly relieved and wrecked all at once.

Promise?

Promise.

Distance doesn’t scare me. Losing you does.

I smiled. Honest-to-God smiled.

Jazz saw it and seemed to relax. “That her?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

She stood, brushed the sand off her legs, and offered me a hand. “C’mon, lover girl. Let’s cool you off before you do anything else that lands you in hot water.”

We waded into the surf with the others, the water sharp and cold against skin that had baked all afternoon. People shouted and splashed. Reed squealed when Penny scooped her up and dipped her toes into the ocean. For a while, it almost felt like the world beyond the beach didn’t exist.

By the time we all dragged ourselves back to the sand, the sun was starting its slow descent into the horizon. Coolers were half-empty, towels damp, bodies tired in that good, heavy way.

Mya dropped onto the sand near me, tugging Reed into her lap while Penny packed up their things. She glanced over like she’d been waiting for the right moment.

“Lex Bennet. Just the person I wanted to talk to.”

I sat up straighter, brushing wet hair out of my eyes. Mya and I had played together for the Shamrocks for a full season and were now on the same 3x3 team, but sometimes I still couldn’t believe that the future hall-of-famer, Mya Brown actually knew my name.

“You’ve probably heard,” she said, casual but not really, “the union’s putting together their CBA negotiation team. They asked me for names. Do you think Eva would be interested?”

My eyebrows raised. “Eva? My Eva?”

“Uh huh,” she confirmed.

Before I could answer, Briana—stretching out her calves nearby—let out a skeptical hum.

“Eva’s a star,” she said. “People like her will always have a voice. Maybe what we need is someone more rank-and-file.” She flicked her gaze at me, quick but pointed.

“Not a chance.” I shut down quickly. “I can barely balance practice and eating three meals a day, let alone bargaining sessions.”

Mya tilted her head, like I’d proven her point. “Exactly. Most people are tied up overseas or here grinding every day. Eva’s sidelined right now, but she knows what matters—injuries, contracts, job security. She’d bring something real to the table.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck. “I don’t know. She’s just starting rehab. That’s going to take up most of her time.”

“That’s why she’s perfect,” Mya said, leaning in a little. “She doesn’t have to split focus between games and negotiations. And she knows exactly what’s at stake. Believe me, that perspective matters.”

I hesitated, knowing Eva wouldn’t exactly thank me for volunteering her. But Mya wasn’t wrong. “If she’s up for it, you should ask the union to bring her on. She can more than hold her own in a conference room.”

“Cool. Thanks, Bennet.” Mya gave me a quick nod before Reed wriggled free of her arms and waddled back toward Penny.

The breeze shifted, cool and salty, carrying the last rays of sun across the waves. My phone buzzed in my hand, Eva’s recent text glowing against the darkening screen.

Promise.

I closed my fist around my phone, like I could hold the word tight enough to make it true.