CHAPTER ELEVEN
Steam billowed from the showers as Cole slumped onto the bench in front of his locker, a towel draped around his neck. The Atlanta arena’s visiting team locker room buzzed with post-game activity—teammates chattering about missed opportunities, trainers assessing minor injuries, and everyone trying to get showered and changed.
Thirty-two points. Twelve rebounds. Four assists. Numbers that should have left him satisfied, especially in a road win. Yet as Cole stared at the phone in his hand, the game stats weren’t what occupied his thoughts.
No new message from Annie.
Three days since their last real conversation, and nothing but a short “good luck tonight” text before the game. He scrolled through their previous exchanges, searching for clues about what had changed between them. Everything had been going so well—surprisingly well, considering how little time they’d physically spent together.
“Earth to Cole!” Marcus slapped his shoulder as he passed. “Coach wants us on the bus in fifteen. You planning to sit there all night?”
Cole nodded absently. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
He tossed the phone into his bag and pulled on a fresh team-issued shirt, his movements mechanical.
What was happening between them? The connection had felt so immediate, so genuine from the moment he’d saved her from that stray ball. Annie’s quiet intelligence and subtle humor had captivated him in ways no other woman ever had.
“Thirty-two points and you’re looking like someone stole your lunch money,” Marcus commented, zipping up his travel bag at the neighboring locker. “What’s eating you, man?”
Cole sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing doesn’t make our star player look like someone kicked his dog.” Marcus dropped onto the bench beside him. “Is it that woman you’ve been talking about?”
Cole hesitated, then nodded. Marcus knew him too well. “Annie. Yeah.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“I don’t know.” Cole pulled on his socks with more force than necessary. “She’s just... gone quiet. We were texting every day, video chatting whenever our schedules lined up. The last couple of days, though, it’s been nothing.”
Marcus zipped his bag closed. “Maybe she’s just busy. Or maybe she thinks you’re busy and doesn’t want to bother you.”
That made sense. Sort of. Annie did seem to be the type of person who would think of him. He appreciated that, but he also wanted to talk to her. When he’d tried to initiate a video chat earlier that day, she’d texted back that she hadn’t been available.
He just hoped he hadn’t said something that upset her. As he replayed their recent conversations over in his mind, he couldn’t recall anything that might have bothered her to the extent that she would shut down on him.
“Grab your stuff,” Marcus said, standing up. “Bus is leaving soon. You can figure out what’s going on when we get back to the hotel.”
Cole nodded, gathering his belongings and shouldering his duffel bag. As they filed out of the locker room toward the team bus, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off with Annie. Their connection had felt special—different from the brief, superficial relationships that typically punctuated his busy life as a professional athlete.
The ride back to the hotel passed in a blur of streetlights and team banter.
Back in his hotel room, Cole dropped his bag by the door and fell backward onto the king-sized bed. He reached for his phone again, checking for any new messages.
Still nothing.
Against his better judgment, he tapped Annie’s contact and pressed call. His heart thumped against his ribs as the phone rang once, twice, three times. Just as he was preparing himself for voicemail, the line connected.
“Cole?” Her voice was soft, almost cautious.
“Hey. How’re you doing?”
She gave a cough. “I haven’t been feeling super good the last few days.”
Was it as simple as that? She hadn’t been feeling well?
Though he wasn’t happy that she’d been sick, he hoped that truly was the only reason that their communications had dropped off.
“What have you been sick with?”
“It’s the flu,” she said, her voice a bit raspy. “Lots of aches and a fever. My throat has also been bothering me.”
“I really am sorry to hear that. Have you been to the doctor?”
“Yeah. I went yesterday, and they gave me some medicine that’s supposed to help. I’m just trying to rest.”
Cole found himself wishing he could be there with her, bringing her soup or medicine or whatever else she needed. The thought surprised him—he wasn’t usually the nurturing type.
“I should have texted you more,” she continued, her voice fading slightly. “I just didn’t want to be a bother while you were on the road.”
“You’re never a bother, Annie.” The words came out more intensely than he’d intended. “I was worried when I didn’t hear much from you over the past few days.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She paused, and he could hear her shifting positions. “I watched your game tonight. You were amazing.”
A smile tugged at his lips despite his concern. “You watched even though you’re sick?”
“Of course I did.” There was warmth in her voice now, breaking through the raspy quality. “Thirty-two points, Cole. That’s incredible.”
“Thanks.” He felt a flutter of pleasure knowing she’d been watching him play, even though she was sick. “But honestly, I’d rather hear how you’re doing than talk about the game.”
“It’s just the flu. I’ll be okay.” She coughed again, the sound making him wince. “The doctor says I should be feeling better in a few days.”
Cole stared at the ceiling, picturing her wrapped in blankets, probably looking pale and tired. The image stirred something protective in him.
He wished he could switch to a video call, but he suspected she wouldn’t want that when she wasn’t feeling good.
“Is there someone taking care of you?” he asked. “Do you need anything?”
There was a brief pause on the line. “Dawn stopped by earlier with some groceries, and Benji checks in on me. I’m managing.”
“Managing isn’t the same as being taken care of,” Cole said, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s no fun being sick on your own.”
“That’s true,” Annie agreed, then gave another cough. “But I’ve got people close by, so I’m not truly alone.”
“Are your parents around?”
“My step-mom is here, and my dad will be here on the weekend.”
Cole was glad to hear that. He didn’t like the idea of her being on her own when she was sick.
“When do you get back to LA?” Annie asked.
“We fly to Charlotte tomorrow to play on Thursday, then fly back to LA after the game. I should get in late Thursday night.”
“That’s good. I’m sure you’ll be glad to be home.”
“Yeah. These away trips aren’t as much fun as they used to be. I’m getting old.”
Annie gave a laugh, which led to a cough. “You’re not that old.”
“Tell that to my body.” Cole groaned as he shifted positions. “I’m sure you saw I hit the floor more than once tonight.”
“I did see that,” Annie said. “Made me wince.”
“I’m going to feel it in the morning.”
“Hopefully not too badly.”
“We can feel yuck together,” Cole said. “Both of us dealing with aches and pains. Though I’m sure you’re feeling worse than me.”
“We can commiserate with each other.” Annie’s voice softened. “I’ve missed talking to you. Thanks for calling tonight.”
Cole felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. “I’ve missed you too. More than I expected to.”
The admission hung between them for a moment, honest and unguarded. Cole hadn’t planned to say it out loud, but now that he had, he didn’t regret it. Something about Annie made him want to be honest, even when it meant being vulnerable.
“I didn’t expect to miss you this much either,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s strange how quickly you’ve become important to me.”
Cole stared at the ceiling, his heart beating a little faster. “Strange in a good way, I hope.”
“Definitely good,” Annie said. “Just... unexpected. I’m not usually so quick to let people in.”
“Neither am I,” Cole admitted. “Between basketball and family stuff, I don’t usually have much time for... this.”
“This?” He could hear the smile in her voice despite her illness.
Cole laughed softly. “You know what I mean. Getting to know someone. Caring about someone new.”
“I do know.” She paused, and he heard her taking a sip of something. “It’s scary sometimes, isn’t it?”
“Terrifying,” Cole agreed. “Worth it, though.”
The conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. Cole listened to the sound of her breathing, finding unexpected comfort in just knowing she was there on the other end of the line.
“You should get some rest,” he finally said, reluctant to end the call but concerned about her recovery. “The more you sleep, the faster you’ll get better.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Annie sighed. “I am pretty tired, even though I haven’t done anything all day.”
“I’ll text you tomorrow, okay? And maybe we can video chat when you’re feeling up to it.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “Good night, Cole. And congratulations again on the game.”
“Thanks. Feel better, Annie. Good night.”
After they hung up, Cole set his phone on the nightstand and closed his eyes. The knot of anxiety that had been tightening in his chest for days had finally loosened. She wasn’t pulling away—she was just sick. The relief he felt seemed disproportionate to the situation, but he couldn’t deny it.
As he drifted toward sleep, Cole’s thoughts went to prayer. He’d prayed more in the past few months than he had in years. His concern for Shiloh, the child of his sister and his best friend, who had bravely fought cancer, had restored the faith he’d allowed to slide away back to life again.
And in that moment, a simple prayer winged skyward that Annie would feel better soon, and that whatever was growing between them would have the chance to flourish.
It felt strange, this return to something he’d set aside long ago. Yet as sleep claimed him, the quiet prayer felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Cole woke to the sound of his alarm and the memory of Annie’s voice. For the first time in days, he felt lighter, more focused. He grabbed his phone, half-expecting to see a message from her, but there was nothing yet. It was early, after all.
As he went through his morning routine—stretching, showering, packing—he found himself thinking about their conversation. The way she’d admitted to missing him, the vulnerability in her voice when she confessed how quickly he’d become important to her. It mirrored his own feelings in a way that both thrilled and terrified him.
By the time he joined his teammates for breakfast, Cole had composed and sent a text.
Morning. Hope you slept well and are feeling a little better today. Don’t worry about responding right away—just rest and take care of yourself.
He added a soup emoji and a heart, then hesitated over the heart for a long moment before deciding to leave it. It felt right.
“You look better,” Marcus commented as Cole slid into the seat across from him. “Sorted things out with your girl?”
Cole nodded, reaching for the coffee carafe. “She’s been sick. That’s why she wasn’t reaching out much.”
“See? Told you it wasn’t anything to worry about.” Marcus grinned. “Though I’ve never seen you this hung up on someone before. Must be serious.”
Cole shrugged, but couldn’t hide his smile. “I don’t know what it is yet. But it’s... different.”
“Different good?”
“Yeah,” Cole admitted, stirring cream into his coffee. “Different good.”
The team bus departed for the airport an hour later. As Cole settled into his seat, his phone vibrated with a new message.
Annie: Thanks for checking in. Slept better after talking to you. Will rest today and hopefully talk more tonight?
Cole’s smile widened as he typed back: Definitely tonight. Get some soup in you. I’ll call after the team dinner.
He tucked his phone away, leaning his head against the window. The Atlanta morning traffic rushed past as they headed for the airport. Cole’s mind drifted to the brief prayer he’d offered the night before, and almost unconsciously, he found himself adding to it.
Thank You God, for letting her sleep well. And thank you for bringing her into my life.
It wasn’t eloquent or formal. But as the bus carried him toward the airport, Cole felt a sense of peace settle over him that had nothing to do with basketball or the road ahead.
Something was strengthening between them—something that felt both unexpected and yet somehow inevitable. And for the first time in a long while, Cole found himself looking forward to more than just the next game or the next season. He was looking forward to the next conversation with Annie, and all the conversations that might follow.