Chapter 24
CLAY
“You’re gonna make it,” Rookie tells me. “I can feel it.”
One week until all-star break, then we get real about playoffs.
Our fans are out in force, screaming from the stands.
Adrenaline pounds in my veins as I head out onto the court with the other guys.
With all-star break coming up, the coaching staff will be working on rotations for the postseason. We have a winning record, and we’re sitting at six in the West. High enough to grab a spot in the first round, which has everyone buzzing.
But what no one says out loud is we’re vulnerable.
Every team behind us is breathing down our necks.
Plus, we’ve yet to beat LA, who picked up some starters in the off-season and is once again top in the West, or Boston, who’s ruling the East. We’re playing tonight’s game at home, our last before a big road trip that includes both of them.
Not to mention the competition within the squad.
I want to get to the all-star game. It’s unusual for a team to have multiple all-stars.
Which means it’s down to Kyle and me.
The first period is strong. Miles hits his threes, and Rookie’s settling into his schemes. Jay fumbles a couple passes, but I save them. Even Kyle’s playing well, though I hate to admit it.
Since I hit him, he’s been quieter. Probably doesn’t want to get his lip split open again.
Yeah, if it’d happened on team property, I’d have lost a lot more than an apology to Harlan and Mari.
The third quarter, we’re up eight.
I’ve got twenty already, and so does Kyle. The next play, I have a chance to pass to him in the post. I wave him off and go in for the bucket myself.
On our way back up the court, he sends me a look. “I see what you’re doing,” he calls.
Yeah, well, he’s been doing it all year.
I can taste the win.
The next time up, Miles is open. I try to go around the defender, and he slides in front of me. The whistle shrills as I go down hard.
The entire stands erupt with protests. He’s called for the foul, but my knee hurts like hell.
“You okay?” Jay asks.
“Yeah.”
We’re in the bonus, so I take my foul shots, then the other coach calls a time out. I walk carefully over to the bench.
“How is it?” our coach asks.
“Pretty sure I heard a pop,” Kyle offers.
Motherfucker.
“There was no pop,” I say.
I don’t want to sit. It’ll compromise my time and put Kyle more in the focus in these last few days of voting and give him an edge.
Our head trainer comes over and manipulates the joint, bending and flexing. I try not to wince.
“We should take it back and get it scanned. But it’s your call if we do it now or after the game.”
Kyle watches with interest. So do the other guys.
There’s a hand on my shoulder. Rookie. “We need you, man. Not for tonight, not as an all-star next weekend. For what comes after.”
Every instinct in me is to argue with the trainer, to swallow down the pain and deal with it later.
I meet Jay’s gaze, and he nods. “You can fight tomorrow.”
I follow our trainer back.
NOVA
Knee contusion. That’s what they call it for the three games Clay sits out before the all-star break.
During the most important road trip of the year, Kyle gets named a starter.
Clay doesn’t get picked as a reserve.
I saw the news pop up on my phone while I was on a lunch break from the studio.
“How’s he going to be?” Brooke asks.
“I have no idea. But I’m going over tonight.”
The team gave him an exemption from traveling this week since it’s going to be a few days before he’s back in.
I pick up donuts on the way over to his place.
When I arrive, he buzzes me in. On the table in the foyer is a mysterious black box that looks like it could hold a bowling ball.
“What’s that?” I ask as I set the donuts on the table next to the box.
He looks over the back of the couch. “Agent had it shipped from LA.”
“Can I see?” I bring it over to the couch where he’s sitting in gray sweatpants and nothing else, watching another basketball game.
Clay pops the lock and opens the lid.
Inside is a clear glass box holding a ring the size of a watch.
Dozens, maybe hundreds, of rubies and diamonds sparkle up at us.
“Holy,” I whisper.
He lifts the glass off unceremoniously and holds out the ring. The sides are gold, studded with even more stones.
“That’s your name in diamonds,” I say, tracing the W-A-D-E with a finger.
“Yup. You don’t have to whisper, though.”
“Right.” I laugh it off. “This thing is huge.”
“Like I said. Good for pawning or busting drywall.” His lips twitch.
“Maybe you could put it on a shelf and resist doing either. At least for the time being.”
“Maybe,” he agrees, his smile fading as he sets it back in the box and moves the box to the coffee table.
“How are you doing since the all-star announcement?” I ask.
“Fine. Seriously,” he goes on at my expression. “It’s not like last year. I’m not riding the edge. But maybe it’s for the best I stay here and rehab.”
“I brought you donuts, but the championship ring kind of overshadows those.”
“Agree to disagree. But, I have something for you too.”
He reaches for his phone on the table and types a few keys before holding it out.
On the screen is what looks like a ticket.
Scratch that—two tickets. One in his name and one in mine.
My brows pull together. “Aruba?”
“Figured we could spend the weekend there instead. We could swim. Eat pineapple. Plus, I hear sand is good for rehab.”
“Pineapple,” I echo.
Clay lifts me and settles me over his lap. I’m gripping the phone in one hand, his tattooed shoulder in the other.
I’m surprised and skeptical he’s not more messed up over this. But it’s hard to concentrate when he looks so sexy and determined.
“We should talk about this,” I try once more. “The all-star thing.”
He leans his head back and holds my gaze, his hands dropping. “It sucks that I wasn’t chosen.” Here it comes. “But… I’ve played with those guys plenty before. One more recognition doesn’t have to define my career.”
“Sounds like your therapist talking.”
Clay lifts a shoulder. “If I’m going to pay him, it might as well rub off.”
“You mean that?”
“I might have let out a couple of choice words,” he admits, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“But my life is more than basketball. And even though when I’m in the season all my focus is on competing, I have to hold some part of myself for everything that’s not on that court.
It would be fun to be normal for a change. ”
“Normal?” I echo, lacing my fingers around his neck.
“I hear normal people pack shorts and hats and run to the beach for a last-minute winter vacation for the vitamin D.”
I’m intrigued. I can’t remember the last time I did that, and I can’t picture Clay having ever taken a break midseason.
“One more thing.” He shifts out from under me and heads down the hall, returning a minute later with one hand behind his back and the other holding two huge purple flippers. “Remember these?”
My mouth falls open. “From your closet in LA!”
I take one from him, turning it over. “I can’t believe you remembered these. They’d be perfect to take.”
“Except that one would fit both your feet.” He removes the other hand from behind his back. In it are two smaller pink flippers. “These ones are yours.”
I’m so touched. “I love them.”
“Yeah?” His grunt is hopeful.
Clay sinks back onto the couch, pulling me over his muscled body. I shift on his lap to get comfortable and am rewarded by the feel of him hardening against me.
Damn. This man is a ride I’d give my last dollar to take.
“Vitamin D, huh?” I tease.
“Mhmm.” His slow grin is wicked. “You going to model those for me?”
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
He reaches for my shirt, tugging it over my head, then skims his fingers along the underside of my breast.
“You don’t need one.”