Chapter 22
CLAY
Exhibition games don’t count for anything on paper. They’re about pride. Momentum. Your first chance to check how your off-season work is coming together. Playing against the best team in the league is like reading the tea leaves on your chances to win this year.
There’s also the fact that the guys on the other side of the court could be my teammates. But today, that doesn’t matter. I’m in a Denver uniform, and that’s where my allegiance lies for the full forty-eight minutes of game clock.
“Bring it in, boys,” says Coach. “After the last game, there’ll be attention on Clay. Remember to rotate on defense. Keep the screen and roll open. Kodiaks on three.”
Everyone's hands go in, then up.
I turn toward the court and lock eyes with the opposing point guard.
The cheering of the LA fans fades into the background. The stands are full of fans in LA colors, interspersed with a few brave standouts of ours.
I catch sight of Nova, and adrenaline surges through me that has nothing to do with the game.
I make millions playing basketball.
I’d touch her every night for free.
She looks cute as hell in a black leather jacket, her pink hair flying as she bounces up and down, but it’s not the jersey I sent her as part of a gift basket I instructed to have waiting on her plane.
She’s not ready to announce her feelings.
What are her feelings?
Having her come to my place, fall asleep on my couch until I extricated myself and tucked her in—all of it felt more intimate than anything I’ve done in a long time.
None of it matters right now, I remind myself as the whistle blows.
It’s impossible to know how they’ve game-planned for us, but when the ball goes up, Atlas takes the tip for the team, and LA's plan becomes clear pretty quickly.
Jayden takes it down the court, then over to me. I blast through their defense and score to deafening applause.
They take it back the other way, slicing through our guys like I did theirs.
The next time, Jay looks for Rookie. He shakes loose his defender and grabs the pass, cutting to the basket for a layup… and gets stripped by their center.
The crowd erupts.
For the next five minutes, it’s a painful grind.
Coach doesn’t make a change. What the hell? Rookie’s playing badly. I would’ve subbed him out. But apparently Coach wants us to figure this out.
There’s only one way out of this. The next time back our way, I nod to Jayden.
They’re on me from the second my hands find the ball. Doubling me, making everything hard. I grind my teeth and plow through them to the basket for a layup, collecting a hard foul for my trouble.
When I go to the line, the first ball swishes through the net, and I shoot a look at the LA point guard.
The energy lights the competitive fire in me.
We claw back in the first quarter.
At halftime, we’re up by four thanks to me carrying the team on my shoulders.
Coach pulls me aside in the locker room. “It’s preseason. Let Rookie play.”
“Do you want to win or not?”
He’s making me look bad, which is bad for my trade value.
“It’s a long season, Clay.”
I close the distance between us. “You know LA. They smell blood in the water, they’ll own us all year.”
When we return for the second half, I look up and see Nova in the stands.
She came all this way to see me play. Got on a plane when I know how much that fucks her up.
Sure, she doesn’t know I chartered the most comfortable plane I could get for under twenty people.
Still.
No matter what other things I’m feeling, I want to be better. For me and for her.
I try to take a back seat. I shake off Jayden and nod to Rookie. Then Rookie misses, and my frustration rises up.
I get open for Jayden, who passes to me.
A guy on the other team slams into me, and I go down hard.
“Try not to damage the merchandise.” Their point guard holds out a hand to help me up.
His words have my heart thudding harder. He’s the leader of the LA team. He’d be as likely to know what they’re talking about as anyone.
I shake him off and wait for one of my teammates to help me up.
The next ten plays are similarly brutal.
I get the ball.
They trap me.
I fight through, dragging us back in the points.
It’s painful to be part of, and I bet it's even more painful to watch.
Coach motions me over. “I got a play for you to run.” He points at the bench.
I grab the neck of my jersey in my fist. “I’m the only one who can save this.”
“There’s a nice seat for you. Enjoy it until I’ve decided you’re comfortable enough to get in the game again.”
I stomp over to my seat.
The next quarter is dismal, interrupted only by the throbbing of my knee. I ignore it.
“Coach, put me in.” I can fix this. I know it.
“No.”
I grab my jersey and rip it clean in two.
We lose by four.
Four fucking points.
I’m off the bench and the first one in the locker room before Coach can finish explaining plans for our team dinner.
In the shower, I turn the water to punishingly hot. This is bullshit. There’s no point in me riding the bench. I’m the top scorer on this team. All I want is to win.
I grab my things and am halfway down the hall when I hear her voice.
“Clay?”
I turn back to see Nova, clutching the cord of her VIP badge.
“What happened out there?”
“We got our asses handed to us.”
Her eyes glint. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“It was brutal because I could’ve fixed it. I don’t like to lose.”
“Then teach them how to win.”
I exhale hard. I can’t tell her LA is my endgame. I don’t want to see the way she’d look at me if she knew my plan.
I feel the urge to push her away and bury my pain somewhere deep, to say she couldn’t possibly understand.
But I don’t want to push her away.
“I might not know much about basketball, Clay, but I hear it’s a team sport.”
I cock my head. “Oh yeah?”
“Mhmm.” She smiles. “You don’t need to take it all on. The wins or the losses.”
She comes close, and I let her. I inhale the scent of her shampoo, tugging her body against mine. “Say that again.”
Nova laughs and hugs me back. “It’s not all about you.”
It should feel horrible. Instead, there’s relief.
Where the fuck was she when I was a kid?
“Can I show you something?” She pulls her sketchpad from her big bag and holds it out.
First Jay.
Then Miles.
Atlas.
Rookie.
I don’t have words.
Not because they’re good, though they are, but because she sees something in each of them that I’ve never even looked for.
“This one is my favorite.” She turns the page to reveal one of me.
I’m fearless.
The kind of fearless that doesn’t get threatened by the other team or his own.
My chest constricts. I want to be the man in this image. The man she sees.
I want to prove to ownership, to Harlan, to Coach, that I’m worth what they paid to get me here. Today, I wasn’t.
I’m fascinated by the way she looks at me and obsessed with the possibility I could be that man now, again. I feel unburdened, and hopeful, and lighter than I have since college. Maybe even before then.
I look both ways down the hall, waiting for an LA staff person to pass before I drag Nova against me. She makes a little sound of surprise, as though she doesn’t see how fucking inevitable it is.
I kiss her with the desperation and frustration left from the game, plus the desire that’s been building in me since we visited the Kodiak Camp.
There’s chemistry between us, but it’s more than that. I find myself looking for her whether she’s there or not. I need her sunshine in my day. I want to make hers better, too.
And yeah, every time I've jerked off the past two weeks, it’s her face I've seen.
I want to touch her, tease her, make her lose her mind with pleasure.
I want to hear her moan my name when she comes, feel her tighten around my cock, to wrap her pink-blonde hair around my hand while I stroke into her over and over until she forgets every asshole who dared put his unworthy hands on her.
Her hands fall on my abs, lightly clinging through my clean shirt.
“What was that for?” she asks when I pull back, her expression dazed.
My thumbs slip beneath the waistband of her pants and rub circles over her hips. Her breath catches, her blue eyes turning the most fascinating shade of aqua.
“For being here.”
“Someone made my flight easy thanks to tequila and eye masks.”
“The least I could do.” My lips twitch. “There’s something I gotta do tonight. I want you to come with me.”
She hesitates, tossing a look over her shoulder before looking back at me. “I’m eating with Brooke, plus you have team stuff.”
I know there’s risk in meeting, for both of us.
But I need her. Not some of her—all of her.
“Please.”