Page 75 of On Merit Alone

He was a great teacher, a great mentor, and a natural coach.

That’s basically how I met him after all.

I still didn’t think he should be done quite yet.

He was too much of a talent for that. But I didn’t doubt that once he was done, he would have an immediate place in someone’s corner, supporting them and pushing them further, much like he’d done for me.

And not just with my game, but as a person too.

As the day went on, we ate, played, laughed, and got to know each other.

Iris snuck me up to Ira’s childhood room, and his mother pointed me in the direction of the family photo jackpot in their basement den.

I was peppered with shop questions by his dad and his brother-in-law, Neil.

And his older brother, who was actually just a sweetheart with an annoying younger brother, spent the whole time sending apologetic looks my way as he snuck them from across every room .

When the sun set, the guys pulled out the “fireworks,” which were really just a series of sparklers and popping crackers that sparked along the ground of the street in glimmering ember.

Each sibling had their thing. Iris set off this thing that resembled a flower in the way it rose up from the ground and curled over in an arch of light.

Isaac chose a spraying shooter that started strong and fizzled out just as fast as it began.

Ira chose a slow rolling smoke bomb that emitted multiple colors but none at the same time, which meant it took a while, but by the time it reached the sky it painted it in a pretty sherbet haze.

All of their choices mirrored their personalities.

It made me wonder how far these traditions went back and how long they would go forward.

These people had once been smaller people together.

They were still doing the same things they used to, yet they were undoubtedly changed in ways I would never know without knowing the first versions of them.

It made me sad to realize I would never know the evolution of seeing someone from the first version of themselves to their last. I know that in the end, the way my life worked out probably would have just torn a sibling away from me anyway.

But being around Ira and his family sort of made me wish that, at the very least, God could have left me a little brother or sister to love the way the Kings loved each other.

Now we were standing at the edge of the driveway holding long sticks of sparklers out to light. Ira was doing the lighting and apparently we all had to hold the ends of our sticks together in the middle so they could light at precisely the same time (or so they said).

I trusted them much less after my simple question of ‘But won’t that make them spark too much and catch fire?

’ was met with nothing but blank stares.

They obviously had never thought about that.

But I might have worried him a little by the way Ira warned me to, “Watch your fingers, Mer. Don’t hold it so close or you’ll get burned. ”

I was less concerned about my fingers and more about my hair. So, subtly I tucked it behind me as the Kings lit up the sparklers and soon the spray of erratic fire on a stick captured the remains of our attention.

We all marveled at it for a second, giggling when the initial light was so large, everyone cast nervous glances at each other.

I was just smiling at them though. Watching the siblings interact—just being around them—had been great.

And even though at times I felt that envious pull nagging at my gut, I also had this warm feeling that I couldn’t equate to anything but happiness.

I recognized it as such from being around Ira, but now it was from being around all of them.

Funny how the Kings found a way to infiltrate my defenses in a single day.

Breaking away from each other, the other two Kings went to find their families while Ira and I ventured off to the edge of the driveway together.

He held both our sparklers as I sat on the curb and handed them off to me as he did the same.

Once we were settled, each holding our crackling fire again, Ira let a long breath seep out of him.

Gray-brown cast a glance my way. “You alright?”

When he spoke, his voice was soft in a worn sort of way. Like he’d been laughing and talking all day. It made me think this would be how it sounded after hosting a long party or even after his own wedding. And that made me pause, because why was I thinking of that right now?

“Fine, why?”

His eyes flickered around me before landing on my face. “You’ve been quiet for the last few hours.”

I lifted a shoulder. “I’m mostly quiet.”

“Yeah, but I just wanted to check on you, I guess,” he said. Moving his attention to the balls of light in front of us, he nodded. “Ever played around with this stuff before? ”

I shook my head.

“Not even with Grandma and Grandpa J?” he asked.

A corner of my mouth lifted at the way he talked about my grandparents like he’d met them before. The way he adopted saying bye to them at my front door just like I had. The way he was always snaking his way more and more into my heart without even noticing.

“My grandparents were old, Ira. They already had to raise a second child unexpectedly after becoming seniors. We did things, but they were tame things,” I said. “So no fireworks in the street for me.”

“What did you do on the Fourth of July?” he asked instead.

I smiled again. “I grew up in Virginia, remember? So, we'd drive out to the moorland beach and have a picnic. Grandpa would say he wasn’t going to, but every year he’d stop on the side of the road at these shacks to buy shrimp… from a roadside cooler.”

“The same guy every time?” he asked, a lilt of disbelief in his voice.

My smile broke free and I laughed. “Nope. He trusted any shrimp stand that close to the swamps. He always said that they ‘probably picked them up this morning’ and would get a hoard of them even though he knew Gram and me wouldn’t eat them.

We’d already seen him get sick once and it was enough for us. ”

His chest bounced as he laughed, “Grandpa J was a guy I could get behind.”

I watched the curve of his mouth as I recognized it as genuine. It did strange things to my heart. It made me want to kiss him. I laid my hand on his knee instead. “I love that you talk like you met him. Knew him. It’s nice, because nobody I know in this lifetime did. Just me.”

“I like to think that if things were different I would know him. And that I get to know him through conversations like this with you.” The way he laid his cheek on the top of my head was almost like a hug. “Thank you for sharing them with me. I know your family is sacred to you.”

I breathed out a laugh but there was no humor. Just irony. “And you. I knew you loved your family before. Seeing you with them is a whole other story though. They’re your world. Thank you for allowing me into your world, I.”

He lifted and as I felt him looking down at me, my head lifted too. His eyes were soft but his expression almost strained, voice gravelly as he said, “Yeah well, I think worlds can shift. Expand. Tilt on their access.”

“Sometimes,” I agreed, my heart pulling at his words.

He nodded, looking back at the dwindling sparklers, “I’m beginning to think I know what it feels like.”

“How does it feel?”

His head stayed forward, but I caught him peeking at me from the corner of his eye. “It feels like being with you.”

Warmth like I’d never felt it before spread throughout my body.

More than when he first kissed me, or when I first got the overwhelming urge to kiss him too.

More than when he made me mad on the court or when he made me weak in his hands when we fooled around.

More than ever, because it was coming from the inside out.

Like Ira had found the deepest light within me, broken and burnt out, and found a way to get it going again.

My chest was almost in pain by the way it ached for him right now.

My throat was closing and tears pricked the backs of my eyes in betraying sensation.

“You’re not fair, King,” I whispered. “You’re not supposed to make me cry in front of your family.

A soft smile tugged his mouth as he looked at me. “I’m not supposed to make you cry at all, sweetheart. But if it means you might understand me a little bit, then I’ll take it.”

“I.” I took a shaky breath. “I don’t want to look like a brat.”

He gave a soft snort even as he reached a hand over and rubbed under my eyes. “You could never give off brat, Merit. And you’re dry. Your imaginary tears can stay between you and me.”

Wanting to lighten the mood, I bumped my shoulder into his. “ I saw your baby pictures.”

He raised an eyebrow at the same time his mouth lifted. “Yeah?”

I dipped my chin, lowering my voice as I leaned in. “ You were so chunky .”

This time he tipped his head back in a laugh. As if my own smile was tethered to that laugh, I couldn’t help but grin. I bumped his shoulder again. “I also saw your old team photos. Write ups, trophies, the whole nine. You were a regular superstar, even then. No wonder this city worships you.”

He raised a shoulder, his pleasant smile remaining. “What can I say?”

I recognized those cocky words as something he would say, but I knew him now.

There was a time when I would think him arrogant (which he sometimes could be) but now I knew it was a rehearsed answer.

Something that often worked in the face of what people expected him to be.

I knew what he really was, though. Which is why I was comfortable enough to point out, “I didn’t know you played as number one before professional. When did you change?”

“College.”

“You didn’t want to change it back after being drafted?”

“Nah.” He sighed, but it was a wistful sound. “My brother and my sister both wore the number one. I'm not the only one who wanted to be like Iris.”