Page 48 of Half-Court Heat (Hoops & Heartstrings #2)

Chapter

Thirty-Two

I woke up early the morning of the championship game with the intention of getting my head and my body right.

I wasn’t due at the arena until later in the afternoon, so I headed to the practice facility for treatment and to get in some extra shots.

Jazz’s season was technically over, having lost to Briana’s team in the semifinals, but she came along to rebound for me—and, knowing her, to make sure I didn’t overthink the upcoming championship match.

She stood beneath the basket as I worked my way around the arc, feeding me passes with just the right amount of spin.

“How are you feeling about tonight?” she asked.

I caught her next pass, squared up, and let it fly. Swish .

“Nervous,” I admitted. “But it’s a good nervous. The kind that means it matters.”

If you couldn’t get excited for game day, what was even the point? The moment that stopped mattering was probably the moment you needed to hang it up and retire. But I didn’t really want to talk about the game.

I moved to the wing and held up my hands to accept another pass. “So are you and Freya a thing, or what?”

“Excuse me?” she asked, a little too innocently.

“Don’t play dumb. I can tell you fuck with her.”

Jazz’s dimpled grin gave her away.

“You freaky frog! Tell me everything .”

“You know a lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” she resisted.

I gasped as if scandalized. “So there’s been kissing ?”

Jazz ducked her head. Her laughter bubbled up, uninhibited and joyful. “I gotta stop cheesing so much. My cheeks are starting to hurt.”

“So, what are we dealing with here?” I prodded. “A fun fling? Or something more serious?”

“I’m not gonna lie—I liked her from the rip,” Jazz admitted. “She’s hella fun.”

I hadn’t seen much of Freya’s fun side during our few, albeit brief, interactions, but I’d also been too preoccupied with my own b.s. lately to really notice anyone else.

“Why do I feel like there’s a but incoming?” I asked.

Jazz’s mouth twisted. “She lives in Belgium, and I do not.”

I nodded sagely. “Have y’all talked about it?”

“Shit, Lex. I don’t think I’m cut out for balancing ball with someone else’s happiness.”

I blew out a breath. “That’s a hell of a way to describe it.”

“My world orbits around the game,” she said. “How would I have time for anything else?”

Jazz’s words landed a little too close to home. “I’m definitely far from being an expert. Eva and I …”

“Sorry,” Jazz cut in quickly. “I didn’t mean to bring that up. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

I kept my eyes on the floor as I dribbled. “Yeah.”

Yeah . It was the only word I could handle. I knew Jazz would have listened to me with a sympathetic ear, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words out loud. It would have made it too real. Eva and I were fighting.

We hadn’t spoken in days . And I didn’t know how we were going to resolve this latest round of bad timing, busy schedules, miscommunication, and petty jealousy.

We fell into a comfortable rhythm after that.

I shot until my shoulders ached and my legs started to feel the burn—muscle memory working overtime while my brain finally, finally shut up.

Jazz didn’t press me with more questions about Eva.

She only passed me the ball and offered the occasional correction or encouragement, like she’d been doing since we were eighteen.

I plopped down on a bench and drained half of my water bottle in one go. Jazz tossed me a towel, then collapsed beside me with a satisfied sigh.

“That was almost a full workout,” she said, wiping her forehead. “You’re gonna sleep like a baby.”

I grinned, still breathing heavy. “That’s the plan. Hydrate, nap, lock in.”

Jazz bumped her shoulder into mine. “You got this, Lex.”

I didn’t feel fearless heading into the championship game, but I wasn’t spiraling either. My head was clear. My body felt good. That was enough for now.

After a quick shower, I grabbed my gear and headed for the exit.

The morning sun had climbed high in the sky, heating the concrete outside of the practice facility.

Jazz followed close behind me, still gabbing about Freya and whether or not it was insane to consider flying to Belgium for a second date.

I was tuned in, laughing even, until I looked up. For a second, I thought I was imagining her.

She was leaning against a black SUV, her hair loose and framing her face, hands tucked into the pockets of her sleeveless jumpsuit. No cameras. No entourage. Just Eva.

The world didn’t stop, but I did.

Jazz noticed, too. She gave me a small, encouraging nod before veering toward the parking lot to give us space.

I walked toward her, my gym bag slung over one shoulder.

Eva didn’t move. She watched my approach, her eyes obscured by dark sunglasses.

“Hey,” she casually greeted. She tilted her head to the side. “Can we talk?”

The doorman said “welcome back,” when he held open the front door of the boutique hotel.

I tried not to react, but I could only stifle my curiosity as far as the elevator.

“How long have you been in Miami?”

“A few days.” Eva didn’t look at me. She stared straight ahead, her reflection doubled in the brushed metal walls as the elevator climbed. “The Commissioner and some team owners wanted a tour of the Miami facilities,” she said. “They asked me to play tour guide since I know the layout.”

“Were you at the semifinals?”

She shook her head. “No. I watched from my room. I didn’t want to be a distraction.”

I snorted at the irony. “Too late.”

I normally didn’t have a hard time shutting out the rest of the world when it came to basketball. Once I was on the court, the outside noise typically fell away. But I hadn’t been able to do that when it came to her.

Her gaze slid sideways. “It wasn’t your best game.”

I sucked in a breath. “Nope.”

The elevator chimed, doors opening to a silence we carried all the way down the hallway and into her rented room.

I took stock of the spartan furnishings—bathroom, bed, desk and chair—before drifting toward the wide windows. I stared at the boats moored in the harbor below.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I heard her offer behind me.

I turned away from the windows. “Why did you get a hotel room?”

Her shoulders lifted. “I didn’t want to assume I could stay at the apartment.”

It took effort to swallow past the lump rising in my throat. “You thought I wouldn’t let you?”

“After everything …” She wrung her hands together. “I really didn’t know.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I tried to joke.

Eva saw no humor in my words.

“I wasn’t trying to do that.” She inhaled slowly like she was bracing herself. “You were right about Kate. She told me she was still in love with me.”

A tidal wave of nausea washed over me. I never thought I’d hate hearing those words: You were right .

The pieces fell into place. The distance lately, both physical and emotional. The prolonged silence. Her not letting me know she was in town.

“And what did you say?” My voice barely worked.

Eva wet her lips. She spoke slowly. Carefully. And I prepared myself for the worst.

“I thanked her for her honesty. And then I was honest in return. I told her my heart was already spoken for.”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even make a sound.

Her pretty speech normally would have had me jumping over the moon. But the gravity of the moment made me want to disclose my secrets, too.

“I need to tell you something, too,” I said, my voice unsteady.

She didn’t respond right away. She folded her arms, her gaze sharp. “Okay. What is it?”

I took a breath. “Rayah propositioned me.”

Eva’s jaw tightened. “Propositioned? What does that mean?”

“She came over not long after your surgery. She offered … uh, herself , I guess. She and her partner have an open relationship while they’re apart. She tried to convince me to do the same.”

Eva sucked in a breath like I’d struck her. “Did you kiss her? Did you—” her voice cracked, “—fuck her?”

I winced at the ugly curse word and the even uglier accusation. “No. Nothing happened. I swear.” I was emphatic. “I would never do that to you.”

Her body remained rigid. “But you still hung out with her after all that.” I watched her work the muscles in her jaw. “You still let her touch you like you were more than just friends.”

I looked away, shame curdling in my gut. “I didn’t … I didn’t see the harm, I guess.” My stomach dropped with a truer revelation. “And maybe a part of me liked the attention.”

The hotel room felt too small for what we needed to say.

“But nothing happened, Eva,” I said again. “I promise.”

She ran a hand through her hair and sharply exhaled. “I believe you—I do. But this is a lot to take in right now. You should have told me sooner.”

“I was scared,” I admitted. “Scared of hurting you.”

“You hurt me anyway by hiding it.”

It would have been easy to retreat into old habits—sarcasm, defensiveness—but I didn’t want to win this fight. Not at the cost of losing her.

I chewed on my lower lip, feeling helpless. “I have to get to the arena soon.”

“I know.”

“Will you be there?” I asked. “At the game?”

“Courtside,” she confirmed with a small sigh. “I’m supposed to sit by the Commissioner to show how the players’ union is working with and not against league leadership to get this CBA done.”

“Cute,” I snorted.

She made a noise of her own. “It’s optics. I know you hate it.”

“I’m sorry.” I quickly shelved my attitude. “I know you’re working hard for the greater good. I never meant to be so selfish and narrow-sighted.”

Eva sighed. “And I’ve got to do better at following my own rules.”

“Which is what?”

She smiled softly. “No more being friends with exes. At least not those who don’t want to stay my ex.”

I felt my resistance, my stubbornness, crumbling.

I took a step toward her. “I love you. Fuck —I love you so much, Eva.”

Her eyes shimmered, fierce and tired all at once.

“Let’s stop messing this up, okay?” she said. “We’re too good together to fumble this bag.”