58. Jimmy
JIMMY
We won.
We won really well.
And I was a huge part of that.
I should be celebrating with everyone, but I can’t make myself go to Offside with the guys.
I need to get out of here.
Away.
Shit. Were there scouts in the stands?
Who was watching me?
Coach was. He definitely was, because he’s always watching. He sees me. He knows what I’m capable of, and he wants to push me to achieve that.
But how can I let that happen?
My parents will…
Dammit.
I shake my head, a shudder running through me.
Are they going to own me forever?
And even if I could break free… can I really handle a career in basketball?
All that attention? Interviews? Pressure? Constant media?
Coach thinks I can. He even pulled me aside the other day and suggested I think about entering the portal and transferring to a school with a better team.
“You’re beyond these guys, Jimmy.” Coach looked at me like he actually cared. “You should be training with a top team. Give yourself a chance, man.”
I was shaking my head before he’d even finished talking because I can’t. I can’t leave my team, my house, my… safety net. Mac needs me. Someone has to keep an eye on him.
So is that what you’re doing right now? Hiding away in some sleazy bar in an entirely different town?
I close my eyes, ignoring the voice taunting me, then snap my eyes open and glare at the TV on the wall. I drove nearly an hour to get to Shelby. It’s a little blip on the map south of Nolan. It used to be a mining town back in the late 1800s, and it’s a miracle it’s survived.
Glancing over my shoulder, I check out the clientele and wonder if it has survived. They’re a rowdy bunch tonight. Obviously locals because everyone seems to know one another, and the looks I got when I walked through the door were nothing but suspicious.
There’s a foreigner in their midst.
They probably took one look at me and assumed a whole bunch of things that aren’t true. People often do. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been spoken to loudly and slowly. They see my Asian appearance and, what… suddenly I can’t speak English?
I was born and raised in this country.
Shuffling in my seat, I pick at the label on my beer bottle. I’m not really supposed to be drinking, but the girl behind the bar looked at my driver’s license, darted her eyes to her boss, then softly murmured, “You look twenty-one to me. What can I get ya?”
I smirked at her and quietly ordered a Coors Light. It’s the only beer I know. Truth is, I actually hate alcohol, so I must be really out of it tonight, because I’m forcing this disgusting brew down my throat in the hopes of…
What? You want to get drunk?
How the hell are you expecting to get home, then?
You gonna sleep away the night in your car?
With a frown, I push the beer away. I’ve only had a third of the bottle. I’m still sober enough to get back to Basketball Base, which is exactly what I should be doing. Right now.
“Can I get you anything else?” The pretty girl behind the bar approaches me again.
My eyes flash across her name tag. Alex.
Studying her curious hazel gaze, I take her in, silently assessing her.
She really is beautiful. She has one of those angular faces—strong, defined lines that make her look like she should be on a catwalk.
Her hair is a really dark brown, straight and just a little untamed, framing her oval face. Her full lips are…
Smirking at me, her dark eyebrow arches higher the longer I look, and I suddenly blink and avert my gaze.
With a soft snicker, she rests her hands on the bar. “So… how far from home are you right now?”
I hitch my shoulder. “Nolan.”
“Oh.” She nods, and I dart a quick look at her. She’s starting to smile at me. “So, you a college boy, then?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes.”
I cringe. “You been up there?”
“No, but I’ve heard it’s a pretty cool town. If I ever went to college, I’d probably start by looking there.”
“You want to go to college?”
She tips her head, her right shoulder hitching. “It’s never going to happen, so… what’s the point of wishing for something you can’t have?”
“They have some great scholarships.”
She lets out a soft laugh. “Not for high school dropouts, they don’t.”
My eyebrows bunch. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I… I’m not. I’m sympathizing.”
“Right.” Her frown is skeptical at best, and probably rightfully so. Man, if she knew how rich my family is…
I swallow and avert my gaze back to the bar. It seems safer than watching her pretty face.
“How do you know I didn’t choose to leave high school? How do you know that working this bar isn’t my dream job?”
Resting her forearms on the bar, she leans down to try and capture my eye, but I keep darting my gaze away as I mumble, “I don’t know any of that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t assume.”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t.”
I make the mistake of glancing at her.
Why is she smiling at me?
Shouldn’t she be telling me to take my foreign ass and get lost?
“But your assumptions aren’t all wrong,” she admits with a soft sigh.
“Hey, Alex,” a man from the table behind me hollers. “’Nother round, baby. Let’s go!”
I look over my shoulder in time to see him wiggling his empty glass in the air. “Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t you make me wait.”
A soft sigh escapes her, and my eyes quickly travel back to her as she forces a smile at me and pours another round of drinks.
“If you could go to college, what would you study?” I gently ask her.
She keeps her glare trained on the beers she’s pulling and stiffly replies, “It’ll never be an option, so why waste my time dreaming about it, you know?”
For some reason, her answer makes my chest hurt, and I want to reach across the bar and brush my fingers down her arm, or maybe lightly squeeze her wrist, just offer some form of encouragement to show her she’s not alone.
Seriously. I don’t know what is possessing me right now. Girls usually scare me, but this one… it’s like I’m caught in her tractor beam or something. I want to stand up, slap the bar, and tell her it doesn’t have to be that way. “I’ll pay for you. I’ll make your college dreams a reality.”
But instead, I softly murmur, “How old are you?”
Her lips twitch as she places the last glass onto what’s going to be a heavy tray, then looks at me. “I’m old enough to not be a dreamer anymore. And since Saturday last week, I’ve been old enough to drink at this bar.” She smirks and winks at me.
And I can’t take my eyes off her as she carries that tray of drinks like she’s been doing it for years.
Her pigeon arms take the weight like it’s no big deal, and when she reaches the table, she manages to balance the thing like a pro and pass out the drinks while five guys who are probably old enough to be her father drool over her like she’s some hooker who wants to show them a good time.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” One of them slaps her jean-clad butt and I flinch, narrowing my eyes at the guy with the chunky fingers.
She jumped when he touched her, and it looked like a hard smack.
It probably stung her backside, and she’s obviously not happy about it, but she doesn’t say anything.
Collecting their empty glasses as quickly as she can, she ignores their leering gazes and drunken slurs until one of them tries to feel her up again.
“Quit it,” she snaps, moving her hips so he can’t go in for another squeeze.
“But you got yourself such a cute little ass,” one of them drawls, and they all crack up laughing.
These idiots are at the reckless drunk stage, and she should seriously not have to put up with that.
I scan the bar for her boss—who I’m hoping is some burly guy with a baseball bat who won’t put up with shit from customers—but he’s at the other end, laughing with two guys.
He’s either oblivious to Alex’s plight or he doesn’t care.
I try to get his attention, but he glances my way, follows my head tip to the handsy table, then gives me a pointed look like “So? It’s her job.”
Well, screw that.
I stand up, scowling at him, although he’s not even paying attention to me anymore.
When the guy right next to Alex wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her in for a sloppy kiss, I can’t take it anymore.
“Let me go, Hal.” She strains away, and he gets her cheek as a blinding rage sweeps through me.
Storming up to the table, I snatch his arm and wrench it away from her. “Hey! You deaf? She said let go.”
And like some scene from an old Western, the bar suddenly goes quiet, every single eye in the room landing on me. Every single gaze silently asking me what the fuck I’m doing and who the hell do I think I am.
“It’s fine,” Alex murmurs, a flash of fear crossing her face as she looks to the bar… and her boss.
I rest my hand lightly on her lower back.
She’s so tiny. I mean, I know I’m tall. I’m used to towering over people, but she’s just a dot, and my hand feels massive against her small frame.
Even so, I lightly brush my fingers across her flannel shirt and ask, “Are you okay?” My voice is a barely there whisper, and Alex seems to stiffen at my touch, inching away from me.
“I’m fine.” She puts on a bright voice, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “These guys just like messing around.” Her eyes dart to the bar again, where her boss is now resting his hands on the wood and glaring at her. “No big deal.”
“They shouldn’t be touching you when you don’t want them to,” I growl, my dark gaze traveling over them as I wish for Mac and the rest of my team. They don’t put up with shit like this. You don’t go grabbing women who don’t want it.
Mac may go through women like chewing gum, but he’s big on consent.
“If they don’t want it, you don’t give it, and you don’t take it. When you’re ready to finally hand over your V-card, Jimmy Boy, just remember that.”
“How do you know I haven’t already given away my V-card?” I asked, and he just looked at me with a knowing smirk I couldn’t counter.
Okay, fine. I’m young. I’m inexperienced.
But I am old enough and wise enough to know that these assholes should not be harassing Alex.
I can’t just stand by and let it happen.
“Run along now, Ching Chong,” the guy next to me slurs, his eyes glittering as he watches the racist comment sink in.
I ignore it, refusing to be intimidated by this drunken moron.
I might be outnumbered five to one, but I will not back down until Alex is safely behind the bar.
Handing her the half-filled tray of glasses, I glance down, my closed-mouth smile tense before I softly murmur, “I’ll get the rest of the glasses for you.”
She eyes me up like she doesn’t believe me, then tries to shuffle back from the table. But the idiot on my left is obviously too drunk to think logically, because he darts out his arm, snatching her wrist.
The glasses on the tray wobble and clink together while he growls, “She’s not going anywhere.”
“Get your hands off her.” My voice is soft and steely. It’s the one my dad uses when he’s dealing with businessmen who are trying to take advantage. It usually works like a charm, but right now… not so much.
My heart starts to pound as five drunken men rise from their seats and I realize that in this moment, my height counts for absolutely nothing.
I may be tall. I may be strong.
But I am about to get the shit kicked out of me.
Jimmy and Alex’s romance begins in November 2026