24. Gavin
GAVIN
I wake up with the sun in my eyes and my phone resting on my chest. I have one of those moments where I can’t remember where I am or how I got here. Memories slowly filter in of talking to Violet until… well, shit, I don’t even know.
I pick up my phone, smiling when I see we’re still connected. We fell asleep talking on the phone.
I sit up and look out the window. The only reason I know she’s still in bed is the dark hair peeking out of the pile of pillows and white comforter.
My phone is dangerously close to dying. I screenshot the timestamp of our call, shaking my head as I do. Six hours? Damn. I hang up and tap out a text to Violet, telling her good morning and sending her the photo of our epic all-night conversation. I plug in my phone and then head for the shower.
I need to get in a workout and check in with the trainer about an old wrist injury that’s been flaring up, then we have film review, practice, and I need to do some homework.
We leave Thursday for our next game and, fingers crossed, won’t be seeing a lot of time in Valley until the tournament is over.
Noah, Tommy, and Jenkins are already downstairs in the kitchen. Tommy sits at a stool with his head resting on the counter. I’d forgotten how drunk he was last night.
“Morning, buddy.” I clap him on the shoulder.
“Ughh.” He lifts his head an inch.
Jenkins tosses me a muffin.
“Ooooh. These fresh out of the oven?”
“Taylor made them this morning before she left.”
His girlfriend is going to culinary school in town, and she’s the only reason we eat anything that doesn’t come out of a paper bag.
“I’m heading to the gym,” Jenkins says.
“See you in a bit.” I move to the pantry to grab the protein powder.
“Is Violet upstairs?” Noah asks, leaning against the counter.
“No, she went home last night.”
Tommy’s head snaps up and he rubs the spot between his eyes with his thumb. “Violet was here?”
Noah and I exchange a look before I say, “Yeah, man. You talked to her.”
“I did six shots of Patron the second we got back last night. I don’t remember a lot after that.” He slides off the stool and walks over to the faucet. Instead of grabbing a glass, he places his mouth under the stream of water.
“Good thing you aren’t practicing today,” Noah says as we watch Tommy gulp down water straight from the tap.
He stands tall and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “If I were practicing, I wouldn’t have done any shots last night.”
I quirk a brow.
“Okay, fine,” he relents. “But I definitely would have done less.”
After washing down the muffin with a protein drink, Noah and I head across the street to the fieldhouse.
We get in a quick lower body workout, then I head to Will, one of our trainers, to have my wrist checked.
I sprained it at the beginning of the season during a game when I got knocked to the floor during a shot and awkwardly landed on it.
It’s basically healed, but I still have to check in once or twice a week to do the physical therapy exercises and have the trainer examine it.
I dress for practice and plop down in the lounge area where Vi and I hung out just a week ago. Smiling, I turn on the TV. I love this time of year. My life is always ball, but for one glorious month of the year, the entire world seems to share my obsession.
There’s report after report covering matchups and tournament predictions. My smile doesn’t falter until my father’s face pops up on the screen.
The news reporter grins as he says, “Is Anthony Leonard up to the same old tricks?”
My stomach is in knots as he continues.
“Only six months after his divorce was finalized amidst rumors of numerous affairs during his twenty-year marriage, Anthony Leonard, the five-time All-Star finds himself in another cheating scandal. His girlfriend of two months, Rylie, blasted her now-ex on Twitter. The former model and brand ambassador posted a picture of herself standing next to a dumpster with the caption, Just dumped two-hundred pounds of garbage. Once a cheater, always a cheater.” The man winces. “Ouch.”
My fingers clench around the remote. I don’t know how to make sense of the disappointment that I feel. Why the hell do I care if he cheated on some woman I’ve never met?
Instead of mulling over that bullshit, I head out to the floor to shoot around. Jenkins, Noah, and a few other guys are already here. Even Tommy is dressed and rebounding balls.
Coach Reynolds sits on the sideline with an iPad in his lap.
“Hey, Coach.” I grab a ball from the rack and fall into the chair next to him. I love the way the worn leather feels against my palm. It grounds me. It’s my lifeline when everything else sucks.
He glances at my taped wrist. “Giving you any trouble?”
“Nah. Will wants me to keep it taped as a precaution.”
“Good call. You don’t want to go out on a stupid injury. Trust me.”
I nod my agreement. Coach Reynolds’ college basketball career ended in the final months of his senior year due to an injury. I can’t imagine a worse way to go out.
“What do you have planned for us today?” I glance at the screen of the tablet in his hand. He’s watching film of our last game.
“Just a light scrimmage. I imagine you boys partied pretty hard last night.” His mouth curves as he waits for me to deny it.
I give him a rueful smile.
“I don’t need anyone puking on the court today. We’ll run through our inbound plays, and a few defensive drills. Defense is going to be key in our next matchup.”
I chuckle. “I think the only one in danger of puking today is Tommy.”
Standing, I dribble the ball from hand to hand. Coach follows.
“I got a call last night from a network reporter that’s covering the games next weekend.”
My body flips into high alert, but I answer calmly, “Oh yeah?”
“They want to do a father and son interview with you and your dad.”
I blink several times at Coach, trying to make sense of his words. But that means… “He’s going to be there?”
Coach shrugs.
I assumed my dad would be at the championship, but that’s still weeks away.
I shake my head. “I just want to focus on basketball this weekend.”
“You’re sure? I can set my own demands if the time or place makes a difference.”
“It doesn’t.”
Coach stops in front of me, blocking my path to the basket.
“This is a good opportunity for people to see you. You are a damn good player. I hope like hell we continue on this year, but all any player can plan for is the next game. Between the game and a spotlight interview just before, you’re going to have their undivided attention.
Trust me, that is a rare thing. Some extremely talented players go their whole career without the right people seeing them at the right time. This is your moment.”
It isn’t my moment. Anthony is in damage control, once again trying to look like the perfect father. Fuck that. This is his moment and I want no part of it.
“I’m not entering the draft.”
“I know your plans don’t include the NBA right now, but?—”
“Not ever. If they want to interview someone, pick one of the seniors. Noah or Maxwell.”
He’s quiet for a beat, giving me a chance to change my mind. I won’t.
“Okay. I’ll let them know.”
I walk over to the guys. Noah shoots a basket and then glances at me. His stare lingers when he sees my face. I must look as pissed off as I feel.
“What happened to you? When I left you at the training room, you still had a Violet-induced perma-grin.”
“Nothing.” The ball leaves my fingertips and sails toward the basket, hitting the rim and going right.
Noah jogs to grab it and holds my ball hostage until I speak.
“Some reporter wants to do an interview with me and my dad before the next game.”
“Makes sense.”
I scowl.
“Okay, I know you have beef with your dad, but you have to see that you’re the most interesting story at the tournament this year. Between your dad being an NBA player and your mom a badass coach, also at the tournament, plus your handsome mug and mediocre talent.”
I flip him off, and he chuckles.
“Hell, any reporter that isn’t asking for a piece of that story should be fired.”
“I can’t sit next to him with a camera aimed at my face and pretend like we’re some father/son dynamic duo. It’s bullshit.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. I told Coach I didn’t want to do it.”
I’m thankful when Noah drops it, and we silently shoot around, giving my brain the time it needs to shut out everything but basketball.
When it’s time for practice, Coach walks out onto the middle of the court and blows the whistle. He tells us to take a seat, and we comply, spreading out around him on the wooden floor.
“All right, boys.” He holds a whiteboard at his hip. “I hope you all had fun last night.”
A few people look to Tommy.
Coach grins. “I get it. I do, but starting now, until our season is over, I need your focus here.” He points to the court.
We all nod.
“Okay, then. Let’s get back to work.”
Practice is light, as Coach promised, and the time focusing only on ball helps me forget about my dad, which significantly improves my mood.
Noah and I head back home together, and he looks over at Violet’s house. “She really didn’t stay over last night?”
I shake my head. “Nah.”
“How’d you blow that? The last I saw her, she was soaking wet and heading up to your room to change.” He waggles his brows.
I bark a laugh. “I love how you say that like a girl falling into the pool after a confrontation with the last person I slept with is an all-star setup for hooking up.”
“Was she pissed about Sariah?”
“I think she was just not expecting to be confronted with all of it last night. I know I wasn’t.
” In hindsight, it was dumb of us to think we could hang out at the biggest party of the year and not run into Sariah or Bailey, but I really hadn’t given either of them a thought.
I was just excited about hanging out with her.
“Where’d you leave things?”
“I’m not sure, actually.”
We reach the front door, and he holds it open for me, cocking a brow in question. “Were you wasted?”
“No. We, uh, fell asleep talking on the phone.”
He stares at me a beat and then chuckles under his breath. “That’s some real romantic shit, Leonard.”
“What about you? I thought you were going to ask out Jane.”
“I tried.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “I don’t think she’s interested.”
“Did you say the words, ‘will you go out with me?’”
“She knew what I was trying to ask.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Besides, there is no time for anything but homework and ball right now.”
“That’s true.”
Noah heads toward the kitchen and I start for the stairs.
“Hey,” he calls, “do you want to go to The Hideout or something later?”
“Can’t. I have plans.”
I catch just a glimpse of his smile before I jog out of view.
In my room, I laugh at the scene in front of me: my bed pushed in front of the window.
Out of habit, I glance over at Violet’s window, but I don’t see her.
My phone is still plugged in on my nightstand, and when I check it, I have a dozen texts.
My stomach clenches at a new one from my dad, but the unsettling feeling only lasts for a second because at the very top is one from the girl next door.