Chapter 26
AVERY
AIDEN: You free to catch up?
AVERY: Sure. Call me whenever you’re ready.
Ijust got home from Rawley’s, and an update from Aiden is a welcome distraction. Even though I slept enough, my body feels a little worked up from all the activities last night.
Well, well worth it.
I left right after we woke up, even though some part of me wanted to soak up the quiet morning with him. He offered to drive me, but I ordered a car, not wanting to put him out.
Plus it’s game day, and I’ve got to try to settle in to get ready, not think about a guy.
That sexy, funny, and sweet guy, specifically.
“Hey,” I answer when my phone buzzes.
“Good morning. Or it will be once I share the latest.”
No one would mistake Aiden for humble, I think with a grin. Not that I care, as long as he takes care of business.
“That sounds promising. What’s happened?”
“I have the contract from SkyHigh in hand. It all looks good to me, and I’m going to send it to you and your mom once we get off. I would suggest having a lawyer review it too. Dylan has one he likes.”
Ah, progress. For real. “Amazing, I’ll look at it right away.”
“I promised you nine figures total, but we’ll start with eight.” He chuckles, like this is no big deal.
As if my life doesn’t change the moment the contract is signed.
“I can’t believe this is really happening.”
“That’s not all. I’ve had more back-and-forth with Triumph too. They ended up being interested in a deal with Rawley as well.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“At first, they suggested you two do a campaign together, with deliberate parallels to the one they did with Rori and Landon did last year.”
“Okay.” That photo shoot was steamy as hell and had kicked off the rumors that the two of them were dating.
“But Taylor and I think we should keep your endorsements separate. For one, unlike Rori and Landon, you have a hard expiration date on this thing with Rawley, and it’s not real. Better to keep your brands distinct for these deals.”
“Sure.” I guess that’s logical. Though his emphasis on an “expiration date” and “not real” sends a twinge of discomfort through my chest, which is not particularly logical.
“Taylor came up with an idea to have you do a Triumph campaign with Rori instead. Two badass women athletes, exactly the type of branding that will suit you in the long term. The Triumph CEO ate it up.”
A smile widens on my face, even though Aiden can’t see it. “That sounds perfect, actually.”
“The money won’t be as much since they’re a newer company, but it’s looking like a ten-million-dollar package.”
These numbers. “I’m not going to turn that down.”
“Hope not. With these sports brands starting to get locked up, I’ll turn to other industries. Car companies, insurance, restaurant chains—they’re all looking for the next hot athlete to make them ‘cool.’”
“All right, I’ll follow your lead.” I’m less excited about those types of deals though.
He lets out a sigh, but it’s one of satisfaction.
“I know it’s an unusual situation with Rawley. Hang in there.”
I’m not about to let on exactly how unusual things have become with Rawley, so I just keep it simple.
“No worries, all for a good reason.”
“Indeed.”
We hang up, and I finish getting ready.
Except this day isn’t done with changing my life…
“Same line-up as last time,” Coach Anker says in the locker room a few hours later.
Which means I’m not starting. It’s our fourteenth game, a month after our first, with basically a third of the season over.
I’m getting tired of coming into these games off the bench, but I do feel myself sharpening up, things clicking in place for me. My chemistry with teammates, my stamina, and my consistent caliber of play—I’m leveling up to where I need to be.
I know I have more to offer, right here, right now, today.
Determination floods through me as I channel my frustration in a more productive direction.
“Let’s go, let’s go,” Wendy says, clapping her hands as we walk out onto the court.
Like our previous home games, the energy of the crowd is electric as we appear. The wall of purple shirts is a beautiful sight, and the arena DJ is pumping in some hype beats.
It’s going to be a special game.
The thought comes out of nowhere. A result of my pep talk in the locker room, maybe? That fierce intention twenty minutes ago, pivoting to a manifestation?
I begin my normal routine during the shoot-around. Layups, short jumpers in the paint, mid-range jumpers and three-pointers, all mixed in.
And something feels…extra connected. The tether between my hands and the basket, direct and taut. The ball keeps swishing in, and my shots feel effortless.
I had many days like this at UConn, but not yet on the Surge.
I look around, and none of my teammates seem to be noticing that my baskets keep falling in. Focused on their own routines, as is typical.
Okay. I didn’t feel anything special during our warmup on the court an hour ago before the crowd came in, but I’ll take it now.
The game begins a short while later, and I try to keep my intensity up from the bench. Our opponent is Cleveland again, and their guard Lakisha Maxwell and I had a good battle last time, so hopefully history repeats itself. When I get in the game, anyway.
At the eight-minute mark, we’re up 18-15, and Coach substitutes me in for Katrina. After stepping on the floor, I slide into position to guard Maxwell.
“Good to see you again, Parker,” she says with a smirk.
“We’ll see if you’re still saying that in a few minutes,” I retort.
We’re smiling; it’s all normal shit-talking.
Their point guard throws the ball in from the sideline, aiming for Lakisha. Only I get a hand out to block her from catching it, deflecting the ball to Sarah.
Once I see Sarah take possession, I bolt toward our end, ahead of the Cleveland players. Sarah clocks what I am doing and makes a long pass to me as I keep sprinting past half court. I catch it mid-fast-break, drop three dribbles on the way to the basket, and make an easy lay-in.
Welp, that was a nice way to start my game.
I wink at Lakisha, and she shakes her head at me.
Cleveland’s next play ends in a missed basket, and Wendy grabs the rebound. All ten players get set on our end of the court while our point guard Amari brings the ball up.
Amari calls out the play, which involves a series of staggered screens—blocking moves that helps a teammate escape their defender. In the WNBA, where everyone is so physically strong and has a high basketball IQ, the plays are fluid and complex, so there are several options for the offense.
As part of the sequence, our forward Marisa throws up a screen for Sarah against her defender. But when Sarah catches a pass from Amari and dribbles toward the basket, she flicks the ball toward me instead of taking the shot herself.
Lakisha seems surprised that I have the ball, so I don’t waste a second—draining the eleven-foot jumper.
This time Lakisha doesn’t do any cute gestures, and neither do I.
“Feeling yourself today?” Sarah says to me as we jog back to get in position for the next Cleveland throw-in.
Cleveland manages to score this time. Amari brings the ball down to our end as we all get set. I’m on the perimeter along the three-point line when Amari calls for me to cut past her. She hands off the ball to me and uses her body to keep Lakisha from following me cleanly.
Opening me up for a clear three-point shot. I take it and…
Swish.
Seven points within less than eighty seconds on the game clock.
When the first quarter ends a short bit later, Wendy playfully pulls on my pony tail. “That was some pretty stuff, Parker.”
We huddle with the coaches for the quarter break, and I check in with myself. That locked-in feeling? Still there.
Something inside me calms at an even deeper level.
A confidence that I can impose my will on this game is no longer a desire, but a belief.
“Parker, stay out there for the next quarter,” Coach Anker directs.
“Yes, Coach.”
No more joking, no more taunts. I let my game do the talking in the second quarter.
Coach keeps me in for the first nine minutes, and Amari keeps making sure the ball comes my way. I pass whenever it’s the right thing to do, but my shot is in a total flow.
Three more mid-range jumpers, two layups, and one three-pointer later, I have twenty points total in the first half.
Now this is more like it.
When Coach Anker finally calls me out with one minute left in the first half, the crowd gives me a standing ovation, and I let myself relax a fraction to take the sight in.
There’s still another half to be played though. In the locker room, my teammates don’t engage much with me, but it’s not a surprise. When someone is on a hot streak, you don’t talk about it until the game is done.
The superstitious behavior works because I hit another three right as the second half starts.
We’re up by twenty-two points soon after, and Coach starts rotating me out more frequently with our big lead. But I still end the game with thirty-six points and ten assists, a sea change from my current average of just over twelve points and four assists.
Toward the end of the game, my teammates start chattering with me again.
“Holy shit, Parker, you took over,” Wendy says. “A double-double for our roooookie.” Translation: I hit double digits in two categories, points and assists.
“It was just my day,” I reply, trying to play the team game.
“And that’s how we’re going to win the championship this year,” Sarah adds. “Too many scoring options for other teams to guard.”
To her credit, Katrina gives me a resigned nod as we make eye contact. I don’t really know how to take it, but it’s better than some other things she could have done.
As we start to wrap things up on the floor to go back into the locker room, Kayla approaches me.
“We have multiple interview requests from the reporters here, you good with that?”
“Sure.” It’s to be expected. I go do a quick sideline interview with the local station broadcasting the game.
Later, back in the locker room, I have a million texts waiting for me. I open the ones from my family quickly, knowing I don’t have time for everyone.
DYLAN: Proud of you, Aves. Killer game. Can’t wait to see you do it again in three days.
I give his message a heart reaction. He’s coming two home games from today with Hazel as well as Wells, who’s visiting him in Tampa. Speaking of…
WELLS: That was . You’re the shit.
AVERY: Thanks Carrot.
WELLS: Not the nickname.
Remy and I used to call him that growing up because of his red bushy hair, and it annoys him so much. But irritating Wells is fun.
I send my sister a note back separately to her congrats message, and see that even Jamie has texted.
Rawley has sent me ‘Awesome game Avie!!!’ as well, and he’s the only non-family I feel compelled to reply to right away.
Then I hit call on my mom’s name. She’d asked me to ring her if I could.
“Avery, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re able to talk, because oh my god, what a game. Here, I’m going to put you on speaker so your dad can talk too.”
Not wanting anyone to spy on what Dad might say, I walk swiftly to a small private room that’s off the corner of the locker area.
“Mom, I need to head to the post-game press conference, so I can’t talk long.”
Now on speaker, her voice sounds further away. “Okay, we won’t keep you. Paul, do you want to say anything?”
He clears his throat. “That was beautiful to watch. What a display.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I can’t lie, hearing him say that now, while I’m in the stillness of this private room, really able to absorb everything that just happened—I’m getting choked up.
“You have everything you need to be the best, Avery. This is just the beginning.”
My mom’s voice chimes back in. “Go do your press conference. We’re so excited for you.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Love you.”
“Love you,” I say back.
When she hangs up, I take a beat to settle my emotions and swipe at the tears that begin to fall.
I did it.
I fucking did it.
Just one game, but I showed what I have.
Just one game, but I set my new standard.