Page 32 of On Merit Alone

I sighed. Then, I used the pads of my fingers to poke his cheek a little. It was warm. He was still seething from the inside. I frowned. “Come on I, please? It doesn’t have to be that stuff they gave you for Team Meal. I’ll order you something, just tell me what you like.”

Long fingers curled around my own, gently stopping me from poking him and pulling me forward. He pulled on my hand until he had it tucked so close to himself that it was touching his chest. My palm spread out against it, and his spread on top of my own.

His heart was like a drum beating against my palm.

Rapid and hearty and moderately out of control.

I sucked in a breath, an aching feeling entering my chest. He was not okay.

Even though it seemed like he could be, his normal calm demeanor not much different than usual, he was not.

If the pounding of his heart said anything, he was in turmoil.

“Ira,” I might have whimpered. “How can I help? ”

Slowly, he opened his eyes, his irises latching onto mine right away. He stared, holding my gaze in intense seriousness. In that same sad voice, he said, “Just the light, sweetheart.”

I forced myself to ignore the way my heart flipped at the name he chose to use. Last time he said it flippantly, laced with a tone of teasing. Now, his voice was soft. Familiar. Like he meant for it to come out like it did. Like a secret between us. One that he intended to keep.

I swallowed, but I didn’t move my hand away. “Ira, you gotta eat. Then we can negotiate the light.”

He pouted, his full lips puffing out as he sighed. Then, with a lazy, exasperated sort of gaze, he finally said, “Pizza.”

Pizza was not a great mid-series dinner choice, but I’d be damned if I told him that now. I leaned forward to slip my phone out of the side pocket of my leggings. Ira tracked the movement, his eyes unashamed as they looked over my outfit.

“Pizza, got it,” I said. Tapping away on my phone, I pulled up the delivery app for my favorite pizza in the area. Then I said, “All meat sound good?”

I peeked an eye down at him and he simply nodded. I screwed my mouth up. “I’ll get wings and fries too, just to be safe.”

Once the food was ordered, I leaned forward again to adjust his ice pack before looking back down at him. Though I’d slipped my hand from under his, his large palm still remained on the spot along his chest. And while I looked away, his eyes stayed on me, staring without interruption.

“What?” I asked him, thinking maybe he would finally tell me what happened tonight.

“You look… different,” he said. The first coherent sentence he’d spoken other than bugging me about the damn light.

In a rush to get over here, I didn’t get a chance to change out of my home clothes.

So now I sat next to Ira in a matching lounge set.

Pale green leggings hugging me on the bottom and a matching tank top, sports bra combo up top.

My hair was pushed away from my face with a little green scarf that tied at the top with bunny ears, and I had on Mom’s earrings—medium gold hoops that grandma had given me for my eleventh birthday.

I never wore jewelry on court, but I wore Mom’s earrings every day at home.

They made me feel closer to her even though we were never alive at the same time long enough for us to be that close.

I also wore Dad’s sweatshirt a lot, but tonight I rushed out so fast that I forgot to grab it or any other sweatshirt to cover myself.

Which I wasn’t too worried about with Ira anyway. I knew he wasn’t thinking lasciviously.

I felt bashful under this man’s watchful gaze as he remained so close to me, so soft under me, so open with me. Which is why I ducked my head as I answered, “I rushed out in my home clothes when you told me to come. I was worried.”

He hummed. Lifting his hand, he brought his fingers to my face and moved it so that I was looking at him. Then he smiled almost imperceptibly. “It’s cute. I like it.”

I grimaced. I did not want to be feeling this acrobatic flipping in my heart and stomach right now. Now was not the time. So, reaching for my second zip-up bag, I winced a little as I said, “I'm gonna hit the light until the food gets here, okay? Don’t get mad at me.”

“Why would I—” he stopped talking. Rather, he couldn’t talk anymore as I laid the ice-cold bag of water over his face, then quickly moved to get up.

I could hear him sputtering into the plastic as I made my retreat.

It took him until I reached the light to finally regain his footing, shooting up at the waist to glare at me. “What in the hell was that?”

I glared back. “You need to cool your thoughts, King. Now lay back down.”

I cut the lights. He said nothing, but I could feel him looking at me as I returned to the living room.

When he continued to stare, even as I took up a place by his side, I used my finger to push his forehead down.

Slowly he let me push him back to the ground and after wrestling me a little for the bag of cold water he finally let it go, allowing me to take possession of it again.

“You’re going to put that cold ass shit on me again, aren’t you?” he asked warily.

“Just embrace it. It’ll help you stop thinking so much,” I said.

He only winced in response, readying himself for the ice cold sting.

Leaning forward I placed the bag onto his face again.

“I do this when I start to spiral. My grandpa used to make me stick my head in the freezer. Said it was because I’m such a hot head.

Then he’d stand behind me with grandma, and they’d both remind me of all the reasons I have not to be so angry.

This is my way of doing that now, I guess. ”

He didn’t remove the cold water from his face, and he didn’t respond, but as I moved slowly to gingerly lay down shoulder to shoulder with him, I found myself swallowing hard as his fingers latched onto mine between us.

I didn’t pull away.

I took a breath instead, letting it out in a long, controlled stream. I didn’t know how to do this—how to be there for someone when they were hurting. But I would try my best if only to bring back the smile I had yet to see since I walked into the dark hole Ira was drowning in.

“Stop me if I get anything wrong okay?” I started. I could tell he was confused, but he just grunted, playing along with me. “You’ve had one of the most successful careers ever in NBA history. So no matter what happened to your knee today, you can’t be mad about that.”

Grumbly Ira was back. A simple noise was his only acknowledgement that he heard me or that he cared. I took that as my cue to keep going.

“You hurt yourself playing professional basketball for a living. I’m sure little childhood Ira’s dreams have already come true. No matter what happened to your knee today, you can’t be mad about that.”

His grumble turned into a soft grunt, his hand squeezing mine softly as his thumb traced a line up the side of my hand. I shivered.

“You’re pretty much a shoo-in for the hall of fame. You can never be mad at that,” I said, bumping my shoulder into his. This actually got a soft chuckle out of him, the sound like water in a drought.

Reaching my free hand over, I plucked the icy water bag off of Ira’s face and was met immediately by his eyes. They were softer now. Still sad, still so disappointed, but less angry. He stared back at me, both our heads laying on the ground.

I lowered my voice, matching my volume unconsciously to the sudden intimacy of the moment. “You have done amazing things. You are an amazing thing. So, no matter what happened to your knee today, you’re going to get through it, Ira. Alright?”

He swallowed audibly, his eyes brushing up and down as he looked over my face. Closing his, he cursed under his breath. “I’m out, Six. For the rest of the tournament.”

I hissed, my fears of the worst confirmed with that one sentence. I tried not to show my own pity, but truthfully, I was devastated for him. “What is it?”

“It’s just a strain,” he said but he smacked his lips, ripping his gaze away from mine and groaning up at the ceiling. “The lamest injury with the worst possible timing.”

“Don’t wish worse on yourself. It’s good that it’s only a strain. A lot can happen on that knee and if you tore it again—” I broke off, my own fears beginning to leak into my voice rather than staying the strong friend I was supposed to be for him right now.

He noticed, and he clamped down on my hand tighter in response. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I just—I’m just torn up, Mer. I’m not going to be able to play in the last game of the finals, and I hate to say it, but?— ”

“But?” I coaxed.

He peeked over at me, then abruptly turned his head away as he whispered, “But I don’t think it’s going to go well.”

My heart sank. I sort of thought the same, but I would never want to say so out loud. Ira was right about mindset and manifestation. It was powerful in both ways. I didn’t want to manifest negatively for him. A guy who was so positive all the time.

Instead of agreeing, I leaned into his shoulder more. “So… why are we whispering?”

He turned his head, and instead of the smile I thought it would bring to his face, all I saw was dread. “Because saying so out loud would mean I’m the asshole who doesn’t believe in his team. And I don’t want to be.”

This time I was the one to squeeze his hand. “Then don’t, Ira. So you’re on the sidelines for a few games? You’re still a part of the team. They still need you and every ounce of belief you have in them. And even if that fails, you still have next season, and the season after that.”

His voice was hoarse as he said, “No I don’t.”

“No you don’t what?”

“No, I don’t have—I wasn’t planning on…” he trailed off on a sigh, and I found myself sitting up to look at him, trying to decipher what he could possibly be saying.

Closing his eyes for a few extra seconds, he took a breath and tried again.

“After this season, my contract is up, and I was thinking about maybe?—”

He didn’t get to finish that statement, because a banging sound was suddenly reverberating through the house. I jerked slightly and Ira rose. Sitting up and placing a hand at my elbow as he craned his neck toward the door.

“Pizza?” he asked.

Looking down at my phone, I shook my head. We still had another few minutes left until they showed up. Then, like an idiot, I put two and two together way too late to school my emotions. Hastily, I said, “If it’s like, a girl or something I can leave.”

“ What ?” he hissed. “Why the fuck would it be some other girl, Six?”

Other girl . Word choice, King. Why was he always throwing me off with the things he said?

I shrugged looking away from him to hide my annoying questioning heart. “I dunno. I know how you guys are, I guess.”

He scoffed. “Merit, look at me, please.”

I did.

“I know we’re just getting to know each other, and I understand that there’s a certain perception that follows me as a ball player. But I need you to hear me when I tell you, I will never invite you over here with another girl in tow. Never.”

I bit my lip but nodded. Turning my head so I wouldn’t have to look at his assessing gaze, I asked, “Then who is banging on your door like they’re the freaking police?”

“Dunno,” he said. “Maybe the pizza is just early or something.”

Hopping up, and pulling my arm out of his electric touch, I said, “I’ll go see.”

“Woah, woah, Six. Hold up.” His hand shot out to hold onto me. “Let’s just check before you go. I can’t really run after you if somebody tries to steal you from me.”

From him .

I tried my best to ignore his word choice as he flipped the channel on the remote and up popped the image of his front door. His occupied front door. And not with the pizza guy.

The guys there were holding our pizzas alright, but they were about two feet taller than the average sunny teenage delivery driver and way too up close a personal with the camera to not be comfortable with the property.

“King!” one of them yelled into the receiver. “Open the door man, I gotta piss! ”

We both snickered as his teammate jumped up and down on the front stoop, doing a pee dance. Ira groaned.

“What the hell did they do? Jack the pizza guy?” he asked, snorting. “Fuck, I should have known they would show up on me. Did the same thing when I tore this thing.”

He let his hand flop in the direction of his knee lamely before pushing it up over his head. “Shit.”

“I can still go, Ira,” I said, with a small smile. “If you’re hanging out with your team then I know you’re not doing whatever this is. So I’ll sleep a little easier.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want you to go. If anything I want them gone. It’s just that you’re right. I’ve been sitting in this spot since I got here and I sort of smell. I need a quick shower.”

My mouth went dry at the thought of Ira showering, but I shook myself out of it quickly. It helped that another bang came through the door at the same time. Jesus .

“Okay. Here’s what we can do. I’ll get the door, and you get a shower,” I said. Lifting up to my feet I started to remove his fixings and replace his knee on the ground. “When you get back down we can decide what you want to do with me from there.”

Holding my hands out, I silently offered my help to get him off the floor. He declined. Using the strength of his arms and his one good leg alone, he rose. Towering over me, I thought maybe he was going to fall so I rushed over to grab him, clamping onto the sides of his slim waist in the process.

With ease and balance, he grabbed onto my shoulders and looked down at me.

Swallowing, he murmured, “I’m pretty sure I know exactly what I want to do with you, Six.”