Chapter 8
CLAY
She told me to park on the road.
Evidently the list of things I’ll do to get under Harlan’s skin won’t include showing up at his door to take out his future sister-in-law tonight.
Most of the fancy communities around here are gated, but this one isn’t. I pull up at the foot of the driveway and send a text to let her know I’m here. I cut the engine but leave the radio on, turning over what happened earlier at the bar.
I want to win—I have to—and this team isn’t my ticket to a championship. Harlan won’t admit it, but he’s not stupid. He knows it, too.
The passenger door opens, and Nova shifts inside in a blur of pink.
“Going down the drainpipe looks way easier in movies,” she pants.
She’s silhouetted by the interior lights. Her black yoga pants and long-sleeved shirt hug her curves and give cat burglar vibes. “Seriously?”
“No. I snuck out the back.”
Then with a click of her door, we’re in darkness again.
Her scent is light and a little smoky, like some desert flower, and I resist the temptation to lean over and inhale.
I start the engine and pull into the street.
“Cute car. Electric.” She runs her hand over the dash. “I didn’t realize these were available yet.”
“They’re not.”
“But they are for Clayton Wade.”
She’s teasing me.
“I get what I want. On and off the court.”
She laughs. “Wow. What is that, like a line?”
“No. It’s the truth.”
“If you really get everything you want, you should look happier.”
I cut a look over at her, but she’s all shadows.
“Enough about me. Tell me about the tattoo you’re getting.”
“I want a big one.”
“I see.”
“Huge. Angry.” She spits out the words.
“Angry what?”
“An animal. A cougar, or a bear, or a lion. Something that will tell people I’m feral and there’s no point getting close to me.” She turns toward me. “Are you laughing?”
“A little.”
“I didn’t know you laughed.”
“Once a day. You’re lucky I didn’t hit my quota yet.”
“Must’ve been a rough day.”
“I guess,” I admit. “You?”
“Same.”
Traffic is sparse at this time of night.
We drive in silence a minute, but it’s lighter than before.
“Do you ever feel like the walls are closing in?” she asks. “As if every time you enter a room, it’s smaller than the last time, but no one notices but you?”
My hands clench the steering wheel as I think of the pressure from the guys, the fans, myself. “Every day.”
The plan was to take her for the tattoo, watch her from a safe distance, and figure out what it is about her that I can’t kick from my head.
Getting a tattoo in a dark moment can be a reminder, but I don’t want her doing something she’ll regret.
I pull a U-turn and go south, heading out of town.
“This is the way to the tattoo parlor?” she asks as the buildings thin out.
“No.”
“You said you’d take me.” Nova straightens in her seat.
“I said I’d pick you up. Never said where we were going. You still want one in an hour, we’ll do it,” I say.
She groans and slumps back in her seat. For the next minute, she stares out the window.
“You don’t look worried about where we are going,” I note. “I could be kidnapping you.”
“Promise?”
Her hopeful voice starts a tightening deep in my gut.
Suddenly I’m picturing exactly that. Taking her far from this town. Not looking back.
When we get to our destination, I find parking at a lot off the road. There’s almost no one here except campers.
“Red Rocks?” Nova shifts out of the car and tilts up her face. “Wow, this place is unreal. It feels like you’re close to heaven, or space, or both.”
“That’s the altitude talking.”
“I’ve heard they have the most epic concerts and music festivals. You must come all the time.”
“Never,” I admit.
“How long have you been here?”
I do the math. “Eight months.”
“So, you don’t like music.”
“I like it fine. I just don’t have time.”
“That sounds awful.”
“Awful?” I scoff. “You know how many people want to be me?”
She cocks her head. “Lonely, then. Because no matter how many people want to be you, you’re the only one who is.”
Nova heads off toward the amphitheatre before I can respond.
To the Kodiaks, I’m an asset.
To the fans, I’m a fantasy.
To Rookie and the kids coming up, I’m a god.
It’s been a long time since anyone talked to me like I’m a person.
I pull my hoodie up around my head on the off chance we run into anyone, but it’s quiet.
She scrambles over the dusty ridges, laughing.
Nova is warm and alive. She’s like a baby animal running around.
I wonder, when was the last time I was that vibrant?
“Careful,” I warn her.
“I wore running shoes.”
I stare a little too long at her legs. “Those are sandals.”
“They’re sport sandals.”
“Not a thing.”
“Okay, footwear police.” She ignores me and keeps running along the rows of rock. “It feels better out here. Like I’m not trapped. Like I can be exactly who I want.”
I follow her, my long strides keeping up with her without effort. “Who’s that?”
“Someone who can take care of herself instead of needing my sister to do it for me.”
I think of my own sister, how when she was in the hospital as a teen, I went deeper into my basketball, unable to handle what I couldn’t control.
“Actually, it’s not even that. The thing she likes most about me is my fiancé.”
Every muscle in me tenses. “I thought you said you were single.”
“No. Yes,” she amends.
I leap forward, cutting off her path. “How the fuck can you not know if you’re engaged?”
A lot of people think athletes are into cheating, but I’m not. Even the idea of it makes me seethe.
I mean what I told Jay, that I’m not looking for a distraction, but I hate thinking she might be someone else’s to stare at out of the corner of their eye.
To write their number on.
To wonder what it is about her that makes the air change when she’s near.
Nova shrugs, looking small and younger than before.
“He left without saying goodbye. But technically I didn’t have a chance to give him the ring back, so…”
My anger shifts targets to whatever prick hurt her.
“He was an asshole.”
She wraps her arms around her, the breeze blowing her hair. “Maybe I’m the asshole. He was successful and independent. He said all the right things. Mari liked him.”
“You’re not the asshole.”
“How do you know?”
“Just do.”
Her lips curve in the dark. Her breathing is steady and even.
“My parents used to say I had the worst taste in guys. But they died in a plane crash three years ago.”
She says it matter-of-factly, like she’s telling me the weather or her favorite color.
Nova shifts past me to start scaling the rows of seats again.
It bothers me that she has no one. No parents, no boyfriend, a sister she’s on strained terms with.
Doesn’t mean she’s yours.
A dozen yards ahead, she slips, her hands breaking her fall. I hear her sharp intake of breath and the hitch that tells me she's hurt.
Shit.
I quickly scale the seats between us, then sit on the dirt next to her. I push up her sleeve to feel her wrist with my fingers, each joint and tendon. There’s nothing seriously out of place, but a little whimper escapes her when I press harder.
“Sorry,” I mutter, not sure whether I mean for hurting her or for everyone else who has. “Ice it when you get home unless you want it to blow up on you by morning.”
“Thanks.” Nova leans back until her back kisses the dirt, cradling her arm across her chest.
I’m memorizing every line of her silhouette, the feel of her breath light on my skin.
“I bet you never get caught up in your own head," she says. "Never question yourself. Girls would probably sell their left tit to date you.”
“Sucks because the left is my favorite.”
Her laugh is warm and bright.
I can’t remember the last time I talked this much to anyone. About anything real, anyway.
“They want me for what I represent,” I hear myself say. “They have some idea of what it would be like to be with me or to be seen with me. They don’t give a shit about me.”
“You must have had a real relationship?” she asks.
“I’m on the road half the year. It doesn’t fit with my lifestyle.”
“I bet the right girl would bend over backward to fit with your lifestyle. She’d know your stat sheet and whether you like smooth or crunchy peanut butter.”
My lips twitch in the dark. “That’s not in my official bio.”
This time her laughter is lower, stroking along my spine.
“I like crunchy peanut butter. Now you know something they don’t.”
Her smile widens, and I want to frame it.
“You like being famous, but you like being anonymous more. That’s why you didn’t tell me who you were on the plane.”
I’m not sure how I feel about her analyzing me. For now, I let it slide.
“When people know who you are, they expect things of you. It was nice to meet someone who didn’t expect anything.”
She turns that over. “What do you want?”
“To be the best. Like Jordan or Kobe.” I’ve said as much in public.
My family gave up lots to help me be that. My parents came to all my games, even though it took us away from my sister.
“Are you?”
“I was on track. All-star. All-league. My stats were only matched by three guys in history, all of whom were Finals MVPs. But I haven’t won a championship.
Until I get that ring, there’s still a mountain to climb.
” I flex my knee. “Took a trade here, thinking we’d have a shot to go all the way.
Then I tore my ACL. All of it came crashing down. Surgery last year. Months of rehab.”
Now, all that’s left are questions. Ones I confidently answer in public but can’t stop asking myself in private.
“But you’re better now. You can help Denver win,” she presses.
That’s what I’m telling everyone.
I won’t tell her my plans to leave. She’d tell Harlan, and tipping him off now would cause problems. It’s fine if he thinks I’m disgruntled, but I don’t want him knowing we’re actively looking for an out before my agent and I have the right buyer lined up.
He could try to move me somewhere I don’t want, or worse—try to keep me here just to prove a point.
A rustling sound has us both jumping.
“What is that?” she demands.
“Cougars. Or bears. You know, those angry animals you wanted tattooed on you.”
It’s a joke, but it seems less funny now.
She shivers.
I reach an arm around her, shielding her body with mine.
We’re lined up everywhere. There’s no skin-to-skin contact, but I can feel her heat through our clothes.
“I’m sure they’re just protecting their own,” she whispers.
So am I.
My grip on her tightens.
My ears strain to hear anything in the distance, but mostly I’m dialed into her.
Her scent. Her heartbeat. The feel of her in my arms. I swallow the groan as she shifts against me.
Her hand brushes my abs where my shirt has ridden up. The pull I feel deepens into an ache.
“Nova.”
She tilts her head in the dark, the only indication she heard me.
“How’d you find out your fiancé left?”
“A note in the mailbox the same day as Mari’s wedding invitation.
” Her usually bright voice is soft and reflective.
“He said our life wasn’t what he wanted, that I wasn’t what he wanted.
I found out later he took our joint savings and stole from the company we both worked at.
I’ve been on probation from work while they investigate. ”
Fuck.
That had to hurt like hell, and she’s trying to stand on her own feet.
I’m a king with no room at my side for a queen. Hanging with me will only mess with her plans.
If I want to protect her, I have to tamp down on this attraction.
I pull back and scan the horizon for any signs of wildlife.
“Come on. I’m taking you home.”