Page 47 of Half-Court Heat (Hoops & Heartstrings #2)

The rich scent of garlic bread and marinara wafted into the hallway from Mya’s team apartment.

I lingered outside the door longer than I should have, hand hovering in midair.

We’d won the semifinal game, and in two days we’d play for a championship.

But instead of feeling proud or excited, all I could think about was Eva.

The silence from Boston had been louder than the crowd in the arena, louder than my teammates chanting in the locker room.

Were we broken up? Or were we just … paused? It was the kind of question that gnawed at you until there was nothing left.

I knocked before I could talk myself out of it.

The door swung open, and Mya Brown stood in the threshold in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. “Lex Bennet,” she said warmly, tugging me into a hug before I could protest. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

Her apartment, only a few doors down from my own, was the opposite of the sterile, impersonal team rental where I’d been living.

Toys were scattered across the living room rug.

A pile of picture books sat on the coffee table.

Family photos hung from magnets on the fridge.

It felt lived in, claimed—something rare in the churn of professional basketball, where every season could mean a new city, a new apartment, another lease you’d never renew.

Penny was at the stove, stirring pasta water with a wooden spoon while balancing their daughter Reed on her hip. “Lex,” she greeted, a smile in her tone. “Sit down. You look exhausted.”

I tried to smile back, but she wasn’t wrong. I all but threw myself into an empty chair at the dining room table.

Mya carried in the garlic bread, Penny set down the pasta, and Reed climbed into a booster seat with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where she belonged.

Dinner was simple—spaghetti, garlic bread, and salad—but it was the kind of simple that made your heart feel content.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about Eva.

“Eat,” Mya said, catching me frozen with my fork hovering. “You’ll need your legs in two days.”

I twirled spaghetti and shoved it into my mouth, mostly to avoid having to talk.

For a while, it was just clinking silverware and Reed babbling about dinosaurs between bites. Penny listened intently. Mya nodded along. “Tell Lex about the stegosaurus,” she urged.

I wanted this, all of it—the domestic calm, the unspoken love in every exchange. But the person I wanted it with was hundreds of miles away, and I didn’t know if she still wanted me.

When Reed finished her food and wriggled down from her chair, Penny followed her into the living room, leaving me alone with Mya.

My long-time idol leaned back in her chair, studying me with that same sharp look she used on the court. “A rookie needs her vet.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore,” I resisted.

“You know what I mean,” she countered. “You’ve been drifting ever since you got back from Boston.”

I shrugged, my eyes on my water glass. “I’ve been keeping busy.”

“Busy with what? Not the gym.”

Heat rose in my cheeks. She wasn’t wrong. Lately, I’d spent more nights with a drink in my hand than a ball. It was easier to lose myself to the noise of a nightclub or rooftop bar than deal with the silence of my empty apartment and be reminded of who was missing.

“I should have stepped in sooner,” Mya said, softer now. “When Briana called me, I thought I was just filling a roster spot, doing her a favor. I didn’t realize you’d be … untethered.”

I bristled at the word. Untethered sounded weak. But the truth was worse: it was accurate. Without Eva, I’d been floating. No anchor. No direction.

“I don’t know if we’re still together,” I admitted. I didn’t say her name, but the words still tasted like defeat.

Mya didn’t flinch. “Do you want to be?”

“Yes.” The answer was immediate, pulled from somewhere deeper than thought.

“Then fight for it,” she said. “But first, fight for yourself. Don’t let doubt eat your game alive. You’re not just Eva Montgomery’s girlfriend, Lex. You’re Lex Bennet. One of the best damn guards in the league. Play like it.”

In the living room, Penny and Reed were building a tower out of wooden blocks. Reed’s giggles carried over the clatter, and Penny’s patience never wavered as the tower toppled again and again.

That was what I wanted. Not the blocks, not the garlic bread, but the certainty. The commitment to keep building something together, even when things collapsed.

Mya followed my gaze. “This is what I wanted to show you. The wins, the trophies—they’re great,” she said quietly. “But it’s what you go home to that matters.”

I swallowed hard. I thought of Eva, her braids spilling across the pillow, her laugh echoing in my chest. I thought of how easily she filled a room, how she pulled light toward her, how I was terrified of being left in the shadows.

But I also thought of mornings when she’d make me coffee before practice. Or her hand in the small of my back at a fancy event when she wanted me to know I wasn’t alone. Of her voice, soft but certain, when she said I love you.

I wanted to believe that love still stood.

After dinner, Reed begged for one more story, and Penny indulged her.

I sat cross-legged on the living room floor next to Mya, pretending to listen but really just sinking into the calm of it all.

The way Penny’s voice softened as Reed’s eyes drifted shut.

The way Mya brushed her fingers against Penny’s arm, casual but full of meaning.

I wanted that. Not someday. Not in the abstract. With Eva.

When it was time to leave, Mya walked me to the door. “Take the day off tomorrow and then get back in the gym,” she said firmly. “No excuses. We’ve got two days to lock in.”

“Yes, Coach,” I joked, though my voice was thick.

“I’m no coach,” she rejected. “Just call me the friend who refuses to let you screw this up.”

I hugged her, and this time I didn’t hold back.

Outside, the night pressed heavy and humid, the city’s pulse vibrating in the distance. A few days ago, I would have headed straight for the noise, for the distraction of a rooftop bar. But tonight I just wanted quiet.

Because Mya was right. I couldn’t control Eva. I couldn’t know what being back in Boston meant for her heart. But I could choose to be steady. I could choose to fight for myself, for the game, and for the possibility of building something lasting with her.

I could choose not to drift anymore.

And maybe, if she chose me back, we’d build something together that didn’t fall apart at the first wobble.