15. Miles
15
MILES
Jay: We need to talk. The entire team.
Jay: Today.
Miles: I’m there.
“ T his is a secret meeting. Anyone asks, it never happened.” Jay looks around the circle of guys in the back room at Mile High.
“Wait.” Damon holds up a hand. “First we have to sign in blood.”
Rookie rolls up a sleeve, and Clay shoots him a look.
“It was a joke,” Clay says.
“It was?” Atlas frowns.
I clear my throat, and every set of eyes slides to me.
“Listen, I know I’m scheduled to be back in practice in a few days. I started a little early.”
“You got drunk and broke into the gym,” Clay corrects.
I called this meeting because, aside from my suspension, there’s the very real issue that half the guys on the team don’t believe the drugs in my locker weren’t mine.
I hold up a hand. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t lose conditioning.”
Rookie snorts, but Clay doesn’t blink.
Joking around isn’t going to fix this. I’ve got the message.
“Fine. I missed it. I missed you guys.” I rub a hand over my neck. “The team has always been important to me, but I didn’t see how important until we were in this position. I didn’t care about winning as much as some of you, but what mattered was the fact that we were in it together. Lately, it’s felt like we’re not together.”
“The team’s struggling, and it’s showing up on the court,” Jay says. “Everyone’s gotten stronger after the trade deadline, but instead of improving, we’re down a shooting guard and dealing with a shitstorm.”
I rise, pacing the room. “You know I like to joke around, but I want this as much as any of you. If you think I took a bump after the all-star game, raise a hand.”
A couple of arms rise slowly.
“You think I risked this team by leaving drugs in my own fucking locker at the Kodiaks’ arena, raise a hand,” I say.
The hands lower.
“When you put it that way,” Atlas starts.
“But what’s the alternative?” Rookie demands.
Grim faces around the circle exchange looks.
“Someone’s targeting the team.” We turn toward the door where Chloe leans against the frame.
“The fuck is she doing here?” Atlas grumbles.
“I asked her to come.”
Jay’s admission has my brows lifting.
“Should we wait on Harlan too? James?” Clay asks deadpan.
Jay ignores him. “As the team captain, I want every guy in here to swear you had nothing to do with this.”
One by one, they do.
“Good. So, it wasn’t one of us. Who’s left?”
Chloe folds her arms. “I spoke to security. They showed me tapes. There was no one unusual there that night.”
“Which means it must have been staff,” Jay says.
Unease ripples through the room.
“There are a couple hundred people in the organization,” Chloe says.
“But how many have access to the locker room?” Rookie asks.
Chloe and Jay exchange a look.
“Thirty,” Chloe says. It sounds like a guess.
“Hard to imagine someone has a hate-on for Miles. So, it’s probably money. Someone who wants us to go down.”
Clay grunts. “Boston. What if Hawkins decided talking wasn’t enough?”
That’s a shitty thought, but he’s not wrong.
“Guy’s been known to skirt the rules,” Jay says slowly.
“We know he’s no Kodiaks fan,” Damon adds.
My mind is trying to piece it together. I see the conversation with Dante the other night in a new light.
“Hell, he was in Vegas, too.” I was talking to him before my drink got spiked.
We all sit with that a minute.
“What do we do?” Rookie asks.
“Nothing,” Jay says firmly. “Keep your noses clean. Focus on the season. Get back into winning form.”
“Can we tell the media someone is behind this?” Atlas suggests.
Chloe shakes her head. “They won’t believe it. It will sound like we’re deflecting instead of handling our problems internally.”
No one likes that, but there’s not much we can do about it.
“I’ll talk to Harlan about increasing security,” Chloe says.
We all nod.
“Kodiaks on three,” Jay calls.
We put our hands in.
“Catch you at practice,” Rookie says, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Thanks, man.”
Chloe and the guys disperse one by one, leaving Jay and me. The room feels empty even though it’s not that big.
“Vacation’s almost over.” Jay lingers by the door as I grab my things.
“Thank fuck. Don’t know what to do with myself all week. Lying on the couch staring at the ceiling and watching The Bachelor doesn’t help.”
My friend shakes his head.
I hesitate before asking, “How’s Brooke?”
“You guys don’t talk?”
“It’s not the same.” Confessing to my best friend about his sister feels awkward, and from the look on his face, he’s right there with me.
“I get why she wanted a break. I made life extra rough for her, and maybe I fell harder than she did,” I admit.
“That’s not it.” Jay frowns, rubbing a hand over his face. “She’s been through some things. Kevin treated her like shit, then her sorority sisters turned their backs on her too? You might think I don’t want to see you guys together, but it’s not because she’s my sister. It’s because the attention’ll be even worse this time around with her being linked to you. After what we grew up with and Mom’s career, I don’t want that for her.”
“I can protect her.”
“Not from all of it, you can’t. You can’t be there all the time.”
“Then I’ll be there after,” I say firmly. “This time. Every time.”
Jay grunts, as if my commitment made this worse.
“What?” I challenge.
“I think that was her excuse for leaving, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s more than enough. But if I know my sister, she half believes what they’re saying. That she’s bad for you.”
Disbelief rises up. “That’s bullshit. We both know it.”
He stares me down. “Maybe you should tell her.”
brOOKE
Dear Nova and Brooke,
We enjoyed meeting you in person and appreciated you sending a draft partnership agreement. Please find it attached with minor revisions. We look forward to hosting you this April and exposing your work to our community.
Sincerely,
The Coastal Gallery Team
“Six. No, seven.” I count off the pieces for the show.
“What’s wrong?” Nova asks.
“This piece.” I hold up a photo on my phone. “You were going to send it to Coastal for the show.”
After getting the email yesterday, we did a happy dance and celebrated before filling out the paperwork.
They insisted on a mix of old and new pieces, including a couple of specific floral paintings Nova finished last year. So, we confirmed and Nova added in the list of pieces she would send the gallery, then signed.
Today, we’re organizing the art, working off that list.
We go through cartons, and I open the containers one after the other.
“Well, shit.” Nova looks around the exposed art, dissatisfied.
“Did you send it to New York for another exhibition?” I ask her.
“Maybe? That piece was the one Coastal was most excited about.” She chews her lip.
I’m unwilling to let anything bring us down after we got the agreement signed. It was a huge win. Anything else is fixable.
“We’ll be honest,” I suggest. “Tell him we planned on having it available but it’s not.”
“You don’t think he’ll hate it? It is in the contract we sent back,” she reminds me.
“No way. He loves your work. We’ll send him photos of a three new pieces and he can take his pick,” I suggest. “Your latest paintings are amazing.”
“I appreciate you saying that. Not all the reactions have been positive.”
Her gaze drops to her phone on the table, and I know what she’s thinking.
Her posts featuring new art have less engagement, and half the comments on them are asking when she’ll make more dancers or floral art.
“Ignore the comments. I will respond for you,” I say.
Nova blows out a breath. “You’re the best. Really.”
A notification on her phone interrupts us. My friend glances at the screen.
“Shoot. I told Clay I’d meet him,” she says, clicking off her phone.
I push off the wall and walk over to her, then place my hands on her shoulders. “Go meet your husband. I’ll take another look around and if I can’t find the piece, I’ll photograph your available new ones and send them to him for his choice.”
“Okay. But please don’t stay too late. Call me if you need anything.”
We hug, and I watch as she leaves.
“All right, flower painting. Where the hell are you?” I plant my hands on my hips and scan the room.
Some time later, my phone rings. Miles .
“Hey,” I answer, my heart skipping.
“Hi. What’s up?”
It’s so good hearing his voice. It feels like things are normal with us, even if they aren’t.
“Helping Nova get ready for this show. But I sent her home to be with Clay.”
I fill him in.
“Wow. That gallery sounds like the real deal. Way to go.”
“Thanks.” My lips twitch. “Except for the whole missing piece thing. I’m going to send him some new options and everything will be fine. You’re playing tomorrow?”
“Uh-huh. Had a meeting with the guys to get on the same page.”
“I’m glad.”
He pauses. “Jay said something to me.”
“Oh no.” I start pacing the room.
“He wants me to stop hurting his sister.”
My toe catches on a box and I narrowly avoid going sprawling across the floor. “You’re not hurting me,” I say.
“Yeah, I am. I hurt your reputation. I made you worry. All I want to do is make your life better, Princess, and I couldn’t.”
My chest aches. “That’s not true.”
“I’m going to fix it. Starting now. Did you eat?”
“Eat?” I echo. “Dinner or lunch?”
“I’ll take that as a no. When was the last time you were outside? It’s a beautiful Wednesday.”
“It’s Wednesday?” I wince.
“What you need is a walk and a picnic.”
Longing tugs at me. Both sounds great.
“I can’t,” I say reluctantly. “I need to finish this.”
We hang up so I can get back to work.
Half an hour later, there’s a knock at the door. I rise to get it, finding Miles on the other side.
He’s holding a tree in one hand and a huge brown paper bag from my favorite takeout place in the other but it’s the huge grin on his face that makes me feel the more renewed.
“I couldn’t get you outside for a picnic,” he says sheepishly, “so I brought outside to you.”
Miles holds out the package of rolls to me and I take one. I'm sitting on the blanket he spread across the floor, and when I bite into the roll, I can't help but groan in appreciation. “So good. Missed this.”
“Fresh rolls?”
“Eating with you.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
A slow grin spreads across his face. “What else did you miss?”
“Your coffee. My parents have a perfectly good Nespresso, but it's not the same.” It really isn't. Nothing at home compares to mornings in his kitchen.
“Snob.”
I shrug and reach for my drink, letting more truth spill out. “I miss Waffles.”
“He misses you.”
“I miss your bathtub. I had the best bubble baths in there.” The memory warms my cheeks.
“Mmm. Including the one where you took that picture and sent it to me on the road.” He shakes his head.
I laugh, remembering. “Oh my God. I forgot that.”
“It wasn't an accident,” he says with certainty.
“It was completely an accident.”
We're both grinning now.
My breath catches as he brushes a piece of hair from my face.
“Ninety-four,” he murmurs.
“Ninety-four what?”
“That's how many nights I was on the road last year. I had to spend that many nights without you. I don't want to spend any more.”
My smile fades as I search his face, my heart picking up speed.
He moves closer, and his next words make my chest tight. “I know you're used to being attacked, to people not having your back, but I've got you. The pressure on me is new, but I can take it because I've seen what you deal with. If life is hard right now, I'd still rather go through it with you.”
My throat constricts as he continues. “If people think you're making my life worse, they can fuck off. All the way off. Because they don't know me, and if they did, they'd know my life has only been better with you in it. You make me a better basketball player. A better teammate. A better man.”
The intensity in his eyes makes my heart race.
“I miss you as my friend,” he goes on. “I miss you next to me. I miss hearing you laugh. I miss you as a person, but most of all, I miss you as the person who makes me feel like I'm so damn lucky to be me.”
Everything in me aches to believe him as he whispers, “I can't promise every minute will be perfect, but it'll be more perfect because we'll have each other. We're better together, Brooke. I know you see it. I want to give us another chance, and I don't want to wait until the end of the season to do it.”
I can’t speak. His phone is peeking out of his pocket and the screen lights up, showing a photo of us from before the sorority retreat—on of the ones Nova took on the rooftop when we were pretending.
I look up at him. “You still have that as your home screen?”
His lips twitch. “It was the first time I got to look at you like you were mine.”
The last of my resistance crumbles. I rise up onto my knees and kiss him.