Chapter 91
I hug my grandpa a little longer than necessary. “I’ll be back soon,” I tell him, pulling away and looking into his eyes. The man has not had a single drop of alcohol since that nightmare of a night, and I couldn’t be prouder of him. He stands taller now, more aware of the world around him.
Harlow and I spent a lot of the summer working with specialists for my grandpa’s care, and thanks to Harlow finding the right people at the right time (and exerting a little dominance when needed) we’re steps closer to getting him on the right path. “Harlow’s got that calendar on the fridge,” I tell him. “It’s got the dates I’ll be home.”
“I’ll mark it every morning,” he says, his lips curling at the corners. “You’re going to college now?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Basketball and computers?”
“That’s right,” I beam, causing his smile to widen.
“I’m proud of you, Jace.”
My chest instantly fills with warmth. “Thanks, Grandpa.” I motion to Shawn, standing a few feet away from us on the porch. “Shawn’s going to stay with you tonight, okay? Harlow will be back tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah. She’s going to help me set up my room and stay overnight nearby. Then Jonah’s going to pick her up tomorrow and bring her home.”
“All right,” he says, grasping my shoulder. “You be safe. I love you.”
“I love you too, Grandpa.”
I move to Shawn next, and the handshake between us lasts all of two seconds before I’m being pulled into his embrace. I hug him back—in that manly way that men do. I don’t choke up when he tells me he’s proud of me, and he definitely doesn’t tear up when I thank him for everything he’s done for me. For all the support he’s shown me, on and off the court. We don’t get emotional when we say goodbye, because, you know… we’re men.
Harlow’s already in the passenger’s seat when I get in the van, and I take one more look at the house and the two men standing on the porch, waving goodbye.
“Are you ready, baby?” she asks, placing her hand on my leg.
“Yeah,” I answer truthfully, putting the van in gear. I’ve had to do a lot of mental gymnastics to finally reach this point, but it’s been easier with Harlow by my side—constantly reminding me of my reason. I’m about to embark on my dream—a dream I’ve had since before I can remember. A dream not everyone gets to achieve. I used to force myself to believe that I loved basketball because it was my only way out, but I was lying to myself.
I love basketball because it’s a part of me. A part of my past and a part of my legacy. I love it because even when nothing else in the world made sense, basketball always did. And I love it for the same reasons Harley Greene did. I love the game. I love putting on a jersey and representing something bigger and better than myself. And I love the feeling I get when I’m on the court, shredding maple in front of hundreds, sometimes thousands, of fans. There’s only one thing in this world that can replace that feeling, and I’m the luckiest man in the world, because she’s sitting right next to me.
She’s my ride or die.
My forever.
And for the last time in a while, I drive away from the house, our home—the vision of it in the rearview getting smaller and smaller the farther we get down the driveway until it disappears completely. I pass the exact spot where I honked at Harlow on the first day of school, and she crashed into the ditch. If you’d told me then that we’d end up here, there’s no way I would’ve believed it. I turn left out of the driveway, toward the highway that will lead us to Lubbock.
“You should slow down,” Harlow says.
I glance at her, then the dash. “I’m not speeding.”
“You should slow down,” she repeats.
“Why?”
“Because you won’t want to miss this.”
I slow down, purely because she tells me to, and the moment the main strip comes into view, I slow down even more.
It’s a sea of red, with dots of black and white—Texas Tech colors. There are hundreds of people lined up on the side of the road, waving flags and jerseys and streamers, and Harlow lowers her window, amplifying the cheers of almost every single person who lives in town. There are kids with their faces painted red, holding signs with my name on them.
Go Jace!
Team Rivera!
The van’s barely moving now as I pass the people of Rowville. I spot Jonah with his family, his girl tucked under his arm, and Lana right beside them. I wave at them and then at everyone else. A disbelieving laugh falls from my lips. “Did you do this?” I ask Harlow, my voice barely audible through the lump in my throat.
Harlow shakes her head, her chin raised with pride. “That’s all them, baby.” She’s quiet a beat, taking in the sight. “You are so incredibly loved, Jace Rivera.”
I suck in a breath, release it as slowly as I pass through the only world I’ve ever known. I try to take in the faces of everyone here, and I realize now—a little too late—that these people aren’t strangers to me. I spot Glenda, the owner of the used goods store, who never once let me pay for a single item. I see grown men who came into the rink, wanting nothing more than to simply talk ball with me. And I recognize all the same faces that I see in the arena on game days, cheering me on from the bleachers.
This town, and everyone in it, has supported me through my life in ways I hadn’t even noticed before.
I stop completely, then put the van in park before opening the door.
“What are you doing?” Harlow asks.
“I’m going to say thank you,” I murmur, facing her.
“To all of them?”
I nod. “Every single one.”
Eyes right on mine, Harlow smiles, a slow buildup of pride and admiration. And I find myself doing the same. I always thought that Harlow was my light… but maybe I was wrong. Maybe her presence merely lifted the cloud of darkness surrounding me. Because I realize now that maybe my light was here all along… living in the souls of the people of Rowville.