Page 74 of On Merit Alone

“Has everyone met her but your own parents, Ira?” the same voice that had called from the doorway asked as it floated into the kitchen. I looked up in time to see a blur of soft brown features and straight black hair coming my way .

Huggers, this family. That’s where Ira got his snuggling from. The second I saw the woman, I was in her arms.

Ira’s mother wasn’t tall at all. She was quite small actually with deep brown skin that was softer than anyone’s I’d ever felt, and a warm round face that immediately reminded me of her children’s smiles.

And with her arms around me, she must have had some type of magical spell that made it impossible for me not to return the affection because I was there circling my arms and squeezing her hello right back.

When she pulled away, she held onto my elbows gently and looked up at me like I was an old family friend that she simply hadn’t seen in a couple years and not a brand new person she was just meeting right now.

“Ah,” she said with a bright smile. “Nice to meet you, honey. I’m Lisa.”

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Merit.”

“What a pretty name.” She took a step back, her hands slipping down into mine as she looked me over like some sort of garment. “And such a pretty girl. So tall, too!”

Flicking my eyes up to Ira’s and then quickly back to his mom, I shrugged. “Comes with the territory, I guess.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Oh, I knew it!”

My eyebrows went down. “Um?”

But she was already leaning her shoulders back and calling out, “Isaiah, she’s a model, just like we thought!”

I choked, and Ira did too. I narrowed my eyes at him because it wasn’t that funny. But I broke when I caught the amusement in his eyes… because yeah, it was pretty funny.

His mom looked from me to him and back to me with a puzzled expression. “What?”

I smiled good-naturedly. “Thank you for the compliment, but?—”

“She plays basketball, Mom,” Ira finished for me, giving his mother wide eyes as he eased up to my side. “Although she could model if she wanted.”

I gave him a sugary sweet smile that I knew came off as sarcastic, and he grinned like he was so funny.

“Oh,” Lisa blinked, taking a step further back and looking me over a second time. “Oh, I?—”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Mom.” More huge eyes from Ira and a snort from somewhere behind us that sounded like Iris.

“Oh, you shush,” she said, patting her son and blinking up at me. “Now, I didn’t mean it like that. I just never expected him to?—”

“Good God almighty, is that Merit Jones standing in my kitchen right now?” a warm, deep voice asked from the direction that everyone seemed to be materializing from.

My eyes went up, and up and up, to find a face that looked so much like Ira’s that I immediately blinked. Then I smiled nervously because what did he just say ?

“Hi,” I offered the man who couldn’t be mistaken for anyone other than Ira’s father with his warm golden skin and strong angular features. He even had the curly head, though thinning at the top. Reaching out a hand, I closed the space between us. “Nice to meet you, I’m?—”

“Merit Jones. Don’t I know it,” he said as his large hand engulfed my own, the other coming over to cover it in a two-handed shake.

Looking over at Ira, I couldn’t help my incredulous smile. “I’m only recognized by people when I’m with you. I swear you’re putting them up to it.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Nah, you’re just that good, Six. Dad, let her go, yeah? Remember I said don’t crowd her.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said, dropping my hand and sliding his own into his back pockets. “I’m just a big basketball fan, and woo—girl, you’ve got talent. ”

I smiled. I couldn’t help it, not with the warmth and pride that comment brought up in me. “Thank you, sir.”

“Oh! Call me Isaiah,” he added. Hands going to his hips, head shaking, he just kind of looked at me. “ Wow. ”

Familiar hands slid over my shoulders and though both his parents were so nice, I couldn't help melting into the supportive touch. “ Okay . Are we done being weird now?”

“Not yet,” another voice said from the opposite side of the room where Ira and I had come in. “Weird brother and company have arrived.”

“Oh good,” Ira said. “I was starting to worry you finally got lost up your own?—”

“Ira!” his mom exclaimed.

Ira grinned a devilish, boyish smile that had me hiding my own smile as I turned in the direction of the new voices.

In the entrance of the kitchen stood two more tall figures.

One had that same Ira and company face, though he was much darker than the rest of them, his skin taking on a deep brown that matched my own.

And another was clearly not of this family.

His light brown skin, round face, waved-out hair, and totally unrelated features being a dead giveaway that this must be the brother-in-law.

He was the first to acknowledge me. And by acknowledging I mean stop where he stood and blink as he looked me over, saying, “No fucking way.”

This had the brother dipping his head around the brother-in-law's shoulder to get a better view. It took him a couple extra seconds to place me, but I could tell when he did, his head cocked back in distant surprise. Then he nodded. “Merit Jones. No shit.”

Lisa moved behind me, placing her hands on my elbows as she scooted by to start grabbing grocery bags out of the joining party’s hands. “Honey, I wish I could say there was less cursing in this house, but I never could get them in line. Please excuse my family’s potty mouths. ”

Ignoring her, Ira gestured to the newcomers. “Mer, this is my brother-in-law, Neil. He’s apparently a fan.”

“But he married Iris King,” I whispered, and Ira rolled his eyes.

“—And this is my older brother Isaac. He thinks your career is done after this season.”

“Ira!” Everyone chimed in this time, appalled and shocked at his words. In my mind, I could envision all the ways this troublemaker learned to stir up controversy right here in this kitchen with these very people.

Ira just shrugged, his mouth splitting with amusement. “What! He said it, not me.”

“Yeah, he said it to you. Not to her!”

“Ah, anything you guys have to say she’s heard a thousand times over. She doesn’t care, yeah Six?”

I lifted a shoulder but found my eyes drifting to his brother. I remembered when Ira told me about why he started playing basketball, and I thought of something.

“I am so sorry about my brother.” Stepping forward, Isaac extended a hand. I shook it politely but continued to eye him. He fidgeted under my scrutiny. “We apparently never taught him when to shut up.”

I shook my head. “He’s right, I don’t mind. Everyone has their opinions. I know my own deal.”

“Right,” he eyed Ira warily over my head as if he didn't believe me.

“Do you still play?” I couldn’t help asking after a beat.

“Um, yeah,” he said.

I nodded. “We should play sometime then. Maybe I can change your mind.”

Ira, the absolute little shit, thought it was a great idea that his brother and I play. One on one. Right there on the court in their backyard—because, of course there was a court in the backyard.

I tried to refuse twice, but it was half-hearted.

I would never actually turn down a game and now that the introductions were done and his parents were off cooking, I needed something to do that wasn’t clinging onto Ira every chance I got.

So when he all but decreed that there was to be a game in thirty minutes, King against Jones, I didn’t argue.

Now, as I watched Isaac King, “arguably the worst King at basketball” Iris had told me, wipe his hands on the basketball shorts he dug out of his childhood room, I felt a twinge of guilt climb up my gut.

Leaning a shoulder over to Ira beside me, I said, “How does he take it?”

“Take what?”

“ Losing .”

He grinned. “He’s a great sport. Probably ‘cause he’s so used to it.”

I smothered my own smile. He was turning me into a little shit just like him. “Was this a mean idea?”

“Nah,” he said, leaning his shoulder down to meet mine. “You’re only playing to twenty-one and I’ve been wanting to make him eat that comment since he said it. But this is way better than me kicking his ass.”

I felt my gut turn as I wondered how long ago the so-called comment had been made, and if Ira actually felt so strongly about it. About me .

Turning my gaze up to him, I caught him just as he was mouthing the words ‘eat shit’ to his brother from across the court, mischief written in his eyes.

Feeling my stare, he looked down at me and smiled.

Then he leaned down and gave me a peck. So simple yet so sweet as he said, “Do me proud, sweetheart. ”

He might as well have given me a superpower with that kiss. Poor Isaac didn’t stand much of a chance to begin with. Add on the fact that Ira was enjoying this just as much as I was and let’s just say I could have been playing little Olivia out there and there wouldn’t be much difference.

In fact, after Isaac shook my hand with his siblings snickering in the background and his wife rubbing his shoulders comfortingly, we did play with little Olivia.

Me carrying her on my back as we took on our opponent, a faking Ira.

We beat him and after, he spent the next who knows how long directing her on how to shoot her small ball into her small plastic hoop with very real technique and drills.

The sight fostered visions of a future Ira surrounded by a slew of kids lining up to run drills with him.

Him with a whistle, shouting directions down the court with a smile on his face.

And not for the first time I realized what he meant by maybe wanting to do something else.

We still hadn’t had time to talk about his future all that much, or maybe he was still stalling.

But, watching Ira now, I don’t know how I’d ever missed this.