Page 27

Chapter 26

Brooks

The game is tied at the half and we’re warming up before the third quarter starts. I’ve spent the last few minutes trying to find where Lia is sitting. I scan the seats behind the bench until I find her, seeing fans from the other team talking to her. At first, a knot of uncertainty pulls in my chest, but then it’s clear they’re excited to see her—further confirmed when I see her take a selfie with the couple.

I get up a couple shots and watch as they all fall through the net. That’s kind of the vibe for tonight—I’m making everything. Nights like this are rare but fuck do they feel good. It’s like, no matter what, I’m not going to miss. Not sure if there’s a basketball god out there, but it’s hard to say there isn’t one when I have games like this.

With a double-double under my belt in the first half—eighteen points and ten rebounds—I’m happily anxious to get the third quarter going.

Jalen dribbles next to me and quietly comments, “Seems like everyone wants a piece of Lia.” He nods in the direction of her seat, where she’s standing and taking more photos with more fans. At least this time, it’s a mixture of traveling Jags fans and the opposing team. “You would show off like this when she’s here.” He winks and dribbles towards the basket, hiding a fadeaway jumper.

“I’m not showing off. Just having a good night.” I hit another shot from behind the three-point line. I reach down and rub my fingers across the tape around my knee. The fabric wraps to the front of my leg. Maybe I’m checking that it’s still there? It’s not something I’m actively thinking about, but feeling the tape under the tips of my fingers is almost soothing.

“Bro, I’d prefer you show off. If this is you holding back, let these fucks have it in the second half.” Jalen laughs and gets right in my face.

The announcer’s voice fills the arena, directing everyone’s attention to the Jumbotron. “We were challenged by the Jersey Jaguars to DO IT FOR THE DOGS!” A few pictures from our event and social media show on the screen. Everyone ‘awes’ in unison then laughs when a video of Jalen being chased by a puppy starts to play.

“What the fuck?” he laughs at himself.

The announcer returns and says, “We’re donating $50,000 to these local three shelters. There’s a QR code on the screen—everyone who donates will be entered to win floor seat tickets at a game of your choosing.” The crowd erupts, clapping at the donation and incentive, and it feels like everyone gets their phones out.

This is the moment I choose to look at Lia. She did this. Her hands are on her cheeks, watching in awe while the Jags staff hypes her up. Megan gives her a squeeze around the shoulders, and someone gives her a high five. But then her eyes find me—even from here, I can see the crimson taking over her cheeks.

I put the basketball between the crook of my elbow, holding it to my side and freeing up both hands. I clap for her, and the look she wears makes me want to finish this fucking game. It also makes me want to run over and kiss her, but I know that’s not allowed.

Fuck. It makes me want to do it more.

“That almost makes me feel bad for wanting to beat them,” Jalen grumbles as we walk towards the bench. The buzzer finally sounds, letting us all know it’s game time.

I did not, in fact, feel bad for beating them, or for having one of the best games of my entire existence. I ended up with a triple double—forty-three points, thirteen rebounds, and ten assists—which is solid, but I’m more excited about the six three-pointers I hit in the second half. I walk to the podium, ready for the press conference, and the Jags media clap while I sit down.

Usually, I’d laugh it off and fall into the golden boy graces, but not tonight.

“Is that all you got? I have a game like that , and we get some lukewarm clapping from the corners?” Laughs fill the room and then mostly everyone joins in the applause. The Jags reporters stand, getting even louder.

I pull the microphone closer, sinking into the praise. Tonight, it feels like I deserve it. My skin buzzes, the way it does when I’m on a shooting streak. It feels fucking good. Some might try to shift the conversation or end the interview early, but not me—give me every fucking question you have.

A hand goes up, and the reporter’s voice fills the room. “Brooks, the future for you and the Jags is looking bright. How does it feel to be in this position, especially after a major injury?”

Pulling the microphone close again, my eyes catch my stat line. “Honestly? It’s a bit unreal. I didn’t expect to be playing like this. Coming back to the game is something I wanted so badly, but usually the universe doesn’t give a damn what you want. I hoped to come back and play like this, but I didn’t expect it.” I sit forward, tapping my fingers on the table.

“What do you think has made the difference?”

“Coaching staff. Trainers. My teammates. ”

Lia. Lia fucking Stone. I think it over and over again, but don’t say it aloud.

“Your title odds keep climbing each week, it feels like. That’s gotta feel good, right?” the reporter asks, and laughs fill the edge of the room.

I emphatically nod my head. “Yes, it feels great. Feels like some other words I wish I could say but can’t without getting fined, so we’ll leave it there.”

Back to the locker room, what I think about is Lia. She’s the difference: the thing I didn’t see coming, someone I don’t want to be without. My whole life, I’ve dreamed of winning an NBA championship. I still want that so fucking badly, but now it might not be only me on a podium with a trophy—someone else could be there with me.

When I’m showered and ready to go hang with the team, my phone buzzes.

Chris

are you kidding me?

what a game!!!

I grin at my phone, stopping in my tracks. This is the cherry on top of one hell of a night. This almost makes it feel more full—complete. While I won’t be able to look back and remember any games where my dad yelled my name over the crowd or urged me to get more aggressive, I’ll remember this, and hope for more experiences like tonight.

The entire Jags organization is posted up at the hotel restaurant, which is reserved for our post-game team dinner. I’m at a table with a few teammates, Jalen included, and my eyes keep going for the door, searching for a certain blonde media staff member.

The house sitter sends a text, causing my phone to buzz. I open it to find a picture of Rocky lying in the middle of my king-size bed. When I adopted him, I asked if they had a dog bed recommendation, since they made a few comments about how they didn’t think he’d want to sleep with me. A lightness pulls at me when I look at the photo—he’s clearly comfortable.

“Wait, whose dog is that?!” Jalen grabs my phone and zooms in, his nose close to the screen.

I don’t get to surprise Jalen often, so I soak in the next few seconds. “Mine.”

His head dramatically falls forward, like it’s going to hit the table, and his eyes are wider than the coasters our drinks sit on. “What do you mean, yours ?”

“He’s mine. I adopted him.”

Jalen slaps the table with both hands and lets out a full laugh, one that anyone on our team would know is his. “Y’all better get your checkbooks out. This guy went and adopted a dog!” He takes my phone and shows my teammates.

“And made a donation,” I add as I shove him.

My eyes find the entrance as Lia walks in with Megan, a few other staffers trailing behind. She tosses her head back, clapping her hands at something Megan says. I try not to stare, breaking up my glances while they slip into a booth.

Jalen roll his eyes. “Of course you did.”

“Do it for the dogs,” Jamison, our center, laughs. “That was pretty cool what Lia did. Smart, too.” He shifts and tries to get his phone out of his pocket, which isn’t easy for someone who is almost seven feet tall .

The table nods and I work on holding back a massive grin. I’m so fucking proud of her. My teammates calling Lia smart? Fuck yeah. They’re right, too.

As I’m about to put my phone away, it buzzes.

Unknown

good win ;)

Rebecca. Still haven’t saved her number. Definitely haven’t responded or told anyone about her messages. I almost blabbed to Jalen, but honestly, I didn’t want to get into it. I’m not sure there’s even anything to get into. Her texts don’t get much of a reaction—I’m not worried about missing out or anxious about leaving her on read, and there’s no part of me wondering “what if” when I think about her.

Nothing like the way I felt when I saw Lia in the stands, or when I basically felt her walk in. It’s like there’s something we share; something that lets me know when she’s close or missing when she’s not.

There’s no feeling of dread, like ‘what is she trying to get from me?’ It’s a gross question but one that had hit me like a truck in college. As soon as I played a few good games, the buzz started to grow and all bets were off. Girls would wait for me outside my classes and guys would wait outside my dorm. Everyone wanted something and I barely had enough for myself.

It’s gotten better, considering I play professionally, and my teammates deal with the same sort of thing—it’s nice to not experience it alone. And while I may be a known name in the NBA, there are players much better—and more scandalous—than me.

I’ve never questioned Lia’s motives. Not once. The woman I happened to meet by fucking accident, who I watched verbally burn a man who put his words where they didn’t belong, feels like the first string of something good in a while .

“Think much harder and smoke might come out of those big ass ears,” Jalen jokes, waving his hand in front of my face. “What’s up?” he asks.

“Nothing; just zoned out,” I lie as I hear Lia’s laugh from across the room.

Jalen slinks back into the booth, shaking his head. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

My eyes must’ve given me away.