Page 35 of On Merit Alone

“You do a pretty good job, Eleven. Your guys see it. Your staff sees it. I see it…” she said. “Do you see it?”

Everything she said wrapped around my heart like a warm blanket, but a nagging sense of disappointment remained.

“This was supposed to be my season,” I groaned.

“To win?”

“To do more than just win. To–” I sighed. “To just… do more.”

She didn’t seem like she quite understood that. Hesitantly she smiled, poking me. “Pretty sure you have to actually win before you can do more, King.”

I smiled too—the smartass—but sobered quickly. Correcting myself. “To be more.”

She stood quietly for a moment. Then she turned to me.

“I can’t be the one to change your mind about yourself.

That’s something only you can do. But I can tell you that from where I stand you are way past more.

You are not only the best player I’ve ever been on the court with, but you’ve got good eyes, good sense for the game and great delivery when talking to others.

You’re a team player, but you’re competitive.

You’re a good sport but you’re vicious. You’re a good captain.

No question. People look up to you. Not just fans who wish they knew you but don’t know why.

But people in your life right now look up to you.

Hell, I admire you when I wanted absolutely nothing to do with your smug ass telling me what to do on court.

You have something that makes people listen and believe.

So I don’t know what more you’re looking for.

From what I see, you’re already the most.”

“Six?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I hug you?”

“Now?” She looked around herself. We were already garnering a few curious looks from our teammates, but they’d been curious about us for a while now. I didn’t care.

“Yeah, Six. Now.”

One more look up to my face, and the girl just opened her arms. “Okay.”

I didn’t wait for her to change her mind. I stepped around her, my arms circling her slim waist and anchoring her to me. She was tall, but she still rose to her toes so that she could wrap her slender arms around my neck, anchoring me right back to her.

I let my face fall into her shoulder. Breathed her in.

Leaned on her. Stole every ounce of quiet, gentle strength she was willing to give me.

Because even though the waves of my emotions were rocking me in such high and low places, I was still expected to show up here—we all were.

She got that. Which is probably why she was giving this to me right now, in the middle of a crowded gym.

Hands plastered on her back, I felt the strong story of her own career in the muscle along her body. The evidence that this girl had the potential to know me. To understand. I burrowed deeper into that thought, still not feeling up to letting her go.

With her arms around me, one of her hands on my neck rubbing soft fingers into my hair and the other firmly latched onto my shoulder, she didn’t squirm or pull away.

She was normally so wishy-washy when it had to do with anything other than basketball.

But now, and back in my living room too, she showed that when it counted she could be just as unwavering as she was with a ball in her hands.

My breath shuddered and I cursed myself to pull my shit together. She just moved her fingers in small circles wherever they touched my skin.

“Why’d you ask this time?” she said, her voice getting lost in my body where her face was smashed.

“What?”

“Why’d you ask if you could hug me instead of just doing it?”

“Because,” I breathed. “I wanted you to hug me back.”

She breathed out a soft laugh. “I don’t think I could ever not hug you back. Especially when you’re being like this.”

“Like what?” I asked. “What am I being like?”

“Sweet,” she paused. “Like you .”

I suppose I should’ve felt childish or silly being called sweet while being comforted after losing a damn basketball game. But I didn’t. I felt okay. I felt right. Like I’d somehow, someway landed in the right spot for me without even trying.

I felt lucky .

“Are we going to have to watch you two circle each other for mating every time you’re in the same room?” I recognized McKivvey’s voice followed by a rumble of soft chuckles around us.

I didn’t move and Merit followed my lead. Apparently when she agreed to hug me, she agreed to do it on my terms. I liked that too. I was liking everything about this girl lately, which is why I wasn’t inclined to let her go just yet.

“Cut me some slack. I just lost a championship,” I grumbled to my teammate.

“You’ve slacked enough sitting your ass on the bench, Cap,” Kivvey said.

If I thought I was going to be sore about this, I’d better get my act together fast. Between my team not taking my mopey bullshit anymore and the girl in my arms shaking softly from laughter, I think it was about time I put my pity party to bed. So I let her go.

And giving Merit one more look, I noticed her pressing the backs of her hands to her apparently flushed face—a worthy parting gift.

“Alright team,” I said, turning to address the group with a sigh. “Let’s huddle up… for charity.”

An hour and an unnecessarily aggressive practice scrimmage later and everyone was right back where we started—sitting around our little corner of the practice gym. Only, they were all huffing, panting, or just plain laying there like a stone.

For a group of professional athletes that were supposed to be the highest caliber of athleticism, everyone looked exhausted for having just played half the time we usually did in our actual games.

It may have something to do with the fact that there were no breaks and no subs…

but I think it had more to do with the fact that as soon as both teams stepped out on the court, they had indeed tried to murder each other.

Illegal elbows, shirt grabbing, checks, and screens. Pushing, shoving, and some downright mean taunting. You would think the two teams hated each other. But actually …

“They are such assholes!” Stephens whined as he sprawled out on his back. Everyone else agreed grimly.

Yeah. The real problem was the other team was made up of a bunch of rabble-rousing tools who didn’t quite seem to grasp that this game was for charity. Which made it no better that my team was made up of a group of people who hated to lose. This was bound to get messy.

“Em’s not an asshole,” Martha, the tall quiet girl Merit had come in with, spoke up for maybe the third time this entire practice. All other displays of her personality had been isolated to the feral way she boxed out our small man on defense.

“Neither is Rog, but majority rules, babe. They’re assholes ,” Stephens said.

Martha tucked her brown lips into her mouth and looked away, hugging her knees to her chest as she did. Pouting, I realized. Cute .

“Look, I’m not a real coach, so I wasn’t going to do anything like this, but I don’t think you guys should just get cold sitting around after…

whatever that was . Us guys are done, but I’m sure your coaches would be pissed if you all got hurt mid-season over a charity game. So let’s get a quick stretch in.”

“Ooo, a man with a plan,” McKivvey cooed. “Sexy.”

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes. Nodding to the only one sitting there with steady breathing, I said, “Mer, lead your band of idiots in a cool down, please.”

She got up immediately, but not without giving me a raised eyebrow. “ Mine ? I thought we were yours, coach.”

I raised an eyebrow too, my eyes sinking down her body and up again of their own accord. I couldn’t deny I liked the insinuation of her being mine, whether she meant it or not.

The sound of a throat clearing brought my eyes away from Merit to the rest of them. “Will you two please stop flirting? It’s gross.”

“We’re not—” Merit started .

“Going to stop. So get used to it,” I finished for her. “Now, follow Six and stretch. I’ve got positions for you.”

Merit gave me a glare but started leading them in basic stretching exercises as I pulled up the notes app on my phone.

As much as we kept reminding ourselves this was only for charity, I can’t deny that coaching actually felt good.

I loved watching the game, figuring out the puzzle pieces to make a team work and enjoyed being that motivating piece to help struggling players through a rough patch.

That’s why I always gravitated toward captaining roles on my teams and that’s why I wasn't too mad that I didn’t get to play on court with Merit for this, even though the prospect did seem fun.

“Alright, so based on the first civil war of the Mountaineer Stadium out there, I’d say we’re good.

We have a slight advantage over them because on average we’re bigger and faster.

Not always the case. And like you guys said, we’re not assholes.

They sometimes started to cannibalize each other when they made mistakes.

We’ll use all of that to our advantage.. . for charity.”

“For charity,” they all agreed, like it was a mantra.

I nodded. “Cool. Since we only have three of these practices, I need to choose the positions now. Based on the best five-minute run we had out there, this is who I want playing where, injuries and objections withstanding of course.”

They all sat and listened to me as if I was a real coach. I had to tamp down my crooked smile at how cool it was. How fun .

“Kiv, you’re aggressive and powerful like always and since Rogers and I are coaching, you won’t have anyone out there to send you down.

You’re power forward. Evans you’ll be small forward and the big guy in the center like always.

Martha you’re perfect at shooting guard, steady.

Consistent. And Mer, you’ll be point guard.

Every time you’re up, you’re sinking it in.

” Looking over my notes, I zipped my eyes across my screen a few extra times to make sure I got it all right before clicking my phone shut.

When I looked up, they were all staring at me. “What? Did I get something wrong?”

“No… Coach ,” one of my guys said.

I narrowed my eyes. “I just want to win. Those guys were kind of the worst.”

More grumbling agreements.

“We should call them the Asshats,” Stephens said as he brought his knee up for an uncoordinated stretch.

Kivvey snorted. “Yeah, then what are we?”

“The Not -Asshats?” he said and was welcomed by a chorus of unimpressed groans.

I slipped my hands into my pockets as I shook my head and the girl leading the stretches beside me giggled.

I realized then that this was the first time I’d seen her around other people casually where she wasn’t disappearing right away.

I wondered then why she needed this point of entry to feel comfortable with others.

Why she still seemed guarded as she smiled politely but not openly.

I decided to save that discovery for another time, though. It was getting late, and I had to babysit tonight. It was time to wrap it up.

“Alright, Not-Asshats . We ready to do this thing, or you guys wanna stay all night?” I asked, gravitating toward them.

“No coach!” Stephens and Kivvey said in unison, already synching up with each other’s bullshit.

I shook my head but swallowed my smile. “Get up here, you idiots.”

Together, everyone righted themselves and sauntered over to our little makeshift group. Once huddled, we all looked at each other like deer in headlights. We had our own team huddles and separate routines, but this was brand new.

Taking a leap, I lifted a fist up toward the middle of the circle. Mer picked right up on it, adding hers beside mine and soon everyone followed suit as they all raised their hands to meet us in the middle .

“Good practice. Let’s try not to kill each other next time. See you guys in three weeks,” I said. Not sure what else there was to say. Everyone seemed to agree as they nodded and looked to me to go on. “For… charity.”

“For charity,” they chanted behind me and broke apart.

I watched from the same spot as our little group of players filed out of the gym. That was fun. Calling plays. Joking around on a court instead of being so stressed from pressure my head felt like it was going to pop. Being near her .

“Feeling better, coach?”

“You’re going to have to stop that, Six, before you give me some kind of complex.”

“I knew you’d like it.”

“What? You calling me coach with that little attitude?”

She flipped me a look that had every bit of the attitude I was talking about but shook her head. “No. Calling the shots.”

I gazed down at her curiously, wondering who gave her permission to see me so clearly?

Who gave her permission to spring out of nowhere and be so much of what I didn’t know I needed?

I had no idea, but I was going to need her to slow down, or else I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from coming on too strong.

Which I got the feeling would scare her.

“I do like it.”

“Mmm,” she hummed in agreement like she already knew.

“Calling the shots,” I clarified for no reason.

She continued to hum and nod her agreement absently. Dipping my head into her line of vision, I caught her eyes, making sure she saw me.

“But I don’t mind adjusting my pace, Six. Not when it matters,” I said, coming or strong or not, I wanted her to know. To see that I would adjust for her. I would call the shots or let her call them, so long as we were in the same game .

Her eyes touched mine, intent and questioning. “Are we talking about basketball anymore?”

“What do you think?” I asked.

She swallowed. “I think I should go… if you’re okay now, I mean.”

I smiled, my head dropping between my shoulders. Shot down again. Yet somehow with her, it still felt like progress—like something good. I didn’t mind her hesitation today, because I had a feeling I’d be back tomorrow.

So I just smiled. “Yeah. I should get going too.”