“I’m no coach,” she rejected. “Just call me the friend who refuses to let you screw this up.”
I hugged her, and this time I didn’t hold back.
Outside, the night pressed heavy and humid, the city’s pulse vibrating in the distance. A few days ago, I would have headed straight for the noise, for the distraction of a rooftop bar. But tonight I just wanted quiet.
Because Mya was right. I couldn’t control Eva. I couldn’t know what being back in Boston meant for her heart. But I could choose to be steady. I could choose to fight for myself, for the game, and for the possibility of building something lasting with her.
I could choose not to drift anymore.
And maybe, if she chose me back, we’d build something together that didn’t fall apart at the first wobble.
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Iwoke up early the morning of the championship game with the intention of getting my head and my body right. I wasn’t due at the arena until later in the afternoon, so I headed to the practice facility for treatment and to get in some extra shots. Jazz’s season was technically over, having lost to Briana’s team in the semifinals, but she came along to rebound for me—and, knowing her, to make sure I didn’t overthink the upcoming championship match.
She stood beneath the basket as I worked my way around the arc, feeding me passes with just the right amount of spin.
“How are you feeling about tonight?” she asked.
I caught her next pass, squared up, and let it fly.Swish.
“Nervous,” I admitted. “But it’s a good nervous. The kind that means it matters.”
If you couldn’t get excited for game day, what was even the point? The moment that stopped mattering was probably the moment you needed to hang it up and retire. But I didn’t really want to talk about the game.
I moved to the wing and held up my hands to accept another pass. “So are you and Freya a thing, or what?”
“Excuse me?” she asked, a little too innocently.
“Don’t play dumb. I can tell you fuck with her.”
Jazz’s dimpled grin gave her away.
“You freaky frog! Tell meeverything.”
“You know a lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” she resisted.
I gasped as if scandalized. “So there’s beenkissing?”
Jazz ducked her head. Her laughter bubbled up, uninhibited and joyful. “I gotta stop cheesing so much. My cheeks are starting to hurt.”
“So, what are we dealing with here?” I prodded. “A fun fling? Or something more serious?”
“I’m not gonna lie—I liked her from the rip,” Jazz admitted. “She’s hella fun.”
I hadn’t seen much of Freya’s fun side during our few, albeit brief, interactions, but I’d also been too preoccupied with my own b.s. lately to really notice anyone else.
“Why do I feel like there’s abutincoming?” I asked.
Jazz’s mouth twisted. “She lives in Belgium, and I do not.”
I nodded sagely. “Have y’all talked about it?”
“Shit, Lex. I don’t think I’m cut out for balancing ball with someone else’s happiness.”
I blew out a breath. “That’s a hell of a way to describe it.”
