Chapter 31
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
MIRANDA
Ilook around the gym, taking in the sea of Crane hockey players scattered across the floor. Not a single stranger.
I turn back to Miles, narrowing my eyes. “How is this a charity event exactly?”
“Well,” he says, rocking back on his heels, “we needed one this quarter anyway, so all the guys pitched in a thousand bucks. The winners of the game get to choose which organization the money goes to.”
I blink. “So basically… you created this entire event so I would play basketball.”
Miles shrugs, wearing an adorable, unabashedly guilty grin. “Maybe something like that. But hey—Penny’s going to take videos and pictures, make some posts. It’ll get traction and make the team look good. We’ll donate some money, and everyone has fun. It’s a win-win.”
I laugh under my breath. “I’m either going to love you more or hate you after this.”
“Yeah,” he admits, “that’s what I figured.” He gives me a soft smile. “Come on. Let’s go.”
He grabs my hand, and we walk toward the center of the court where the team—and most of the spouses and girlfriends—have congregated in a loose circle.
“Yo,” Beckett calls out. “How’s this gonna go? Backyard-style picks? Numbers in a hat? Intermixed? Guys versus girls? We need to decide.”
“Well, clearly we’re not doing guys versus girls,” Logan says. “That puts the girls at a major disadvantage.”
“Excuse me?” Iris snaps, arms crossing. “Girls are just as good as guys.”
Beckett scrunches his nose. “I don’t know about that, sis.”
I step forward. “Actually, I think we should do guys versus girls.”
Every head swivels toward me.
“You really think that’ll be fair?” Bash asks carefully. “I’m not trying to be negative—just thinking we might want to co-mingle a bit.”
Anna gives me a knowing look, her smile stretching wide. “Nope. I agree with Miranda. We don’t need any guys on our team holding us down.”
“In all fairness…” Ari raises her hand like we’re back in school. “I haven’t played basketball since middle school gym class.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her, heat rising in my chest. “It’ll come back to you.”
The group grumbles, debates, and negotiates—but eventually, to my enormous amusement, we settle on it.
Elena volunteers to take pictures, keep score, handle the video camera, and keep an eye on the two almost toddlers, her son Chase and Max’s daughter Caroline, as they crawl around the bleachers.
My team consists of me, Anna, Ari, Iris, Delaney, and Penny. An unlikely dream team.
Both teams head to opposite sides of the court to warm up with shooting drills.
I gather the girls into a little huddle and, somehow, without even thinking about it, I fall right back into my old captain role.
It slips on like a second skin. And admittedly…
just the couple of layups and jump shots I take during warm-up have a smile tugging at my mouth.
Maybe this won’t be too bad.
We start with a jump ball, which is hilarious because it’s Gunner—who is approximately the size of a redwood and a head taller than even the tallest guy on the team—versus Anna. And while she has supermodel height, she has nothing on Gunner.
He doesn’t even jump. He just lifts a long arm and swats the ball to the guys with casual ease.
The game kicks off, and while all the guys are world-class athletes, it's very clear basketball was not their sport of choice. They do have a height advantage and a bit of a stamina advantage, but I still feel oddly confident as we start to play.
Unfortunately, they absolutely school us in defense—simply by being giant walls of human muscle. Every shot the girls try to take gets blocked. Their arms are everywhere.
But honestly? We're having the time of our lives.
We're running.
Passing.
Laughing.
Trash-talking.
For the first time in years, my heart feels light on a basketball court. When I realize that we’re not going to win this game with layups, I switch gears and start shooting threes.
Deep threes.
As soon as I cross half court, before the guys even realize I'm open, I launch the ball. One after another after another drops straight through the net with that beautiful whisper.
A perfect swish.
My skin prickles with excitement. God, I forgot how much I loved that sound.
“Hey!” Jaden shouts from across the court. “We have to guard her sooner!”
He points at Bash—my current defender. “You can't let her take those long shots!”
“Got it,” Bash calls back.
For a while, they do manage to shut down my threes, so I call a time-out. The girls huddle around me, panting and laughing.
I draw up the world’s simplest play. I bring the ball down the court, pass to one of the girls to pull my defender with her, I make a quick move around him, she passes back, and I shoot a three.
We run it on the very next play.
And it works beautifully.
After that, the whole game turns into a series of fake-outs—distractions to pull the guys out of position so I can shoot from deep. I offer to hand off scoring duty, but the girls want none of the pressure.
“Nope, nope,” Anna says. “This is all you.”
It’s exhilarating, sinking one long shot after another.
The guys grow more and more frustrated. The girls get better and better at defense—swatting at their arms when they go up for a shot.
While I know it’s technically a foul, Elena—who has become the ref, time-keeper, score-keeper, photographer, and baby-tender—doesn’t call it.
So… we keep doing it.
I laugh so hard my sides hurt. The guys might not be basketball players, but they are absolutely competitors—and they do not like losing.
And right now?
They are losing.
Badly.
“You can’t just hit my arm!” Beckett yells in pure outrage as Iris swats him again. “That’s a foul!”
“Babe!” he calls across the gym toward Elena, who’s sitting on the bleachers with the kids. “A foul call—yes?”
“Sorry, didn’t see it!” she calls back brightly.
All the girls on our team burst into giggles.
“Sorry, she didn’t see it,” Iris singsongs, prancing past her brother.
“This is unbelievable,” Beckett mutters, shoving his fingers through his hair. “You all are totally cheating.”
“Yeah, and there have definitely been some moments where you’ve cheated too,” Delaney fires back.
“Have not,” Jaden insists.
“Oh, right?” Anna says loudly. “So, babe, when you were just… what? Running down the court holding the ball—you don’t think that was a travel?”
“I didn’t do that,” he scoffs defensively.
“Oh, you did,” Penny adds, hands on her hips. “And it was absolutely a trip. It just wasn’t called. So,” she says, turning to the group, “let’s agree that both teams have some uncalled fouls.”
“I just think you’re all pissy because we have Miranda,” Ari says proudly.
“Whatever,” Cade sighs dramatically. “Two minutes left. Let’s go.”
The game resumes, and I sink two more threes—clean, effortless, perfect swishes that echo in my blood. The guys groan. The girls cheer. And when the final buzzer wails, the noise erupts into pure chaotic joy.
We won.
We didn’t just win—we demolished them by more than thirty points.
The girls swarm together in a huge huddle, jumping up and down, shrieking and giggling like absolute maniacs. I’m laughing too—until suddenly I’m not.
I swipe my face and feel hot, fresh tears streaking down my cheeks. Across the circle, Anna is already looking at me—her eyes glassy, full of pride and love.
I walk toward her as she walks toward me. When we meet, we crash into a hug, both crying, both clutching the other. Because with one simple game—one ridiculous, chaotic, laughter-filled pickup game—my beautiful boyfriend gave me something I thought was gone forever.
Basketball.
But what he really gave me was joy. A piece of myself I’d buried so deep I thought it was lost.
Now that I remember what it feels like to play—the thrill, the freedom, the excitement.
I know one thing for sure, I’m never giving it up again.