Chapter 31
NOVA
Grumpy Baller: Can you come over.
The game is happening later today and I’m running around when the text comes from Clay.
Alarm shoots through me.
Clay’s been edgy all week, every moment he’s not caught up in team practices or press conferences.
It’s exciting the Kodiaks are in the position to win the conference. It would be a new record for the organization, and the entire city is buzzing.
When I get to his condo, the door’s open.
I stick my head in. “Hello?” I call warily as I push the door wide.
The cool winter light filters in through the open windows, making the living room a pale gray.
Clay’s Kodiak duffle sits next to the door along with his dress shoes.
He’s in the kitchen leaning against the counter wearing black trousers. His hair is sticking up in every direction.
On the counter next to him is a dress shirt.
“There you are.”
He lifts his head when he sees me. “Hey.”
I reach for the shirt. “This will look good. They might want you to wear it. Otherwise, it’ll start a riot,” I tease.
When I pick it up, I spot the journal underneath.
It’s open, the pages full of sloping writing.
Holy. He’s been busy.
“Looks like you need a new one.”
“Nah. I need you.”
He pulls me between his legs and rests his forehead on mine.
“What’s up?” I say, trying to keep it light.
“I just fucking want it so much,” he admits.
I exhale hard. “I want it for you.”
Want him to have everything he wants, everything he’s worked so hard for.
“It feels different this time around,” he murmurs. “In a way, it’s harder.”
“Because you’ve won before and it will feel like a disappointment if you don’t?”
He frowns. “I need them to play like I know they can. Every one of them. If they do, we have a shot.”
My gaze settles on the bear inked across his chest—my design, like each of the guys got in LA. I’m never getting used to seeing that.
Clay leans in, brushing his lips over mine. He tastes like every thrill I’ve ever experienced, every dream I’ve dared to dream.
His touch is fiery, but even more, it’s home.
“I love you,” he murmurs. “No matter what happens today, that won’t change. What you do doesn’t mean shit compared to who you do it with.”
I breathe him in. Every inch of this huge man bent over me.
“I love you, too,” I whisper.
An alarm sounds on his phone, breaking us apart. “That must be for Coach,” I guess, regretting the interruption even as I’m anticipating the day to come.
“Yeah. I told him I’d pick him up and take him to the stadium.”
“I hope everything’s ready for the big celebration. Did James come through?”
Since Coach announced his retirement, Chloe has been working to pull together a special acknowledgment for tonight’s game.
Clay’s expression darkens. “Nah. But we figured it out.”
Curiosity rises up. I want to press him for more, but there’s no time.
I press a kiss to his knee. “You be good. I’m watching you.”
He snorts. “What makes you think you can will part of my anatomy to do your bidding, Pink?”
I cock my head, nodding toward his crotch. “Only the fact that I do it every single day.”
Clay’s slow grin is worth each moment of hardship we’ve been through.
“Okay, you have to run,” I say quickly, passing him the shirt. “I’m going to use your bathroom. I’ll let myself out.”
“Sure. I’ll see you at the game.” He kisses me again, then pulls away.
“You’re amazing,” I call after him.
It’s a relief he’s approaching this in a healthy way.
I head down the hall to use the bathroom. On the way back, I glance into the sports memorabilia room and pull up short.
The glass case with his championship ring is empty.
“How’s Jay feeling?” I grab Brooke’s hand, willing reality to set in.
“He’s a wreck.” She grins. “How’s Clay?”
“He tried to play it cool, but he’s so not cool about this.”
The stadium goes dark, and the music starts.
Spotlights with the Kodiaks logo slice through the darkness.
The announcer interrupts, “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a special presentation thanking the Kodiaks’ longtime former coach.”
When the house lights go up, there’s a video that was made for Coach’s retirement. I bounce lightly on my toes, clasping my hands together as I watch. It’s touching, seeing his incredible career history, watching players say how much he’s meant to them. I’m in tears, and I’m not the only one.
The LA team takes the court, then Denver is announced one by one.
“What the…” Brooke starts. “What are they wearing?” she asks as she sees Atlas, then Miles bound onto the floor.
“Oh shit, Nova. Those are fierce.”
Their normal playoff jerseys have been replaced with new ones: purple and gold with a gray bear in honor of Coach. The design is mine, and Harlan personally called the league to get approval for the team to wear them. Chloe worked around the clock to get the jerseys prepared.
I grin, cheering for every player. Clay is announced last, and I jump up and down, screaming until I’m hoarse.
“If the crowd could win it for them, we would,” Brooke says.
The entire arena is standing from the moment Atlas takes the jump ball.
It starts out tight, back and forth.
Two points here. Two there.
Then the Kodiaks move the ball, setting Miles up for a perfect three…
And he misses.
A collective groan goes up.
The next play, Atlas trips trying to guard and they get a dunk.
Brooke grabs my hand.
By the end of the first quarter, small mistakes are adding up to a six-point deficit for the Kodiaks.
“Damn it,” I whisper.
I look up at the jumbotron for a closeup of Clay as he heads back to the bench. His expression is tight as he and Jay confer.
The teams go back at it in the second.
This time, Rookie tries to take over and get his.
“Come on,” I call, clapping.
Isaac, Clay’s former teammate, steals the ball from him and takes it back the other way for a three.
No.
I see the moment Clay decides to make a change. His face goes from tight concern to impenetrable resolve.
He takes over in the third quarter. Puts the team on his back and carries them to even ground.
“He’s playing out of his mind!” Brooke hollers. I can barely hear it over the roar of the stadium.
At the end of the third quarter, it’s a tied game. Clay goes up for a dunk, and one of the LA guards goes up for the block.
“Look out!” I scream as if they can hear me. As if they’re not already committed.
My heart stops as the two huge bodies fly toward one another.
Clay is focused on the basket, the other man intent on bringing him down.
They collide in mid-air.
The ball finds the hoop and cheers erupt as both players crash to the court in a pile of limbs.
Brooke and I gasp.
The other guy gets up first, but Clay doesn’t move.
Denver calls a time out.
The other Kodiaks jog over to help him up. It takes far too long for him to rise, and far too much help from the other guys.
He tries to walk it off, but when his gaze finds mine, I know.
He’s hurt.
“It’s okay,” I say under my breath. “Trust them.”
Clay turns away.
“This is the worst timing.” Brooke says what every person in the arena is thinking as the final seconds of the quarter expire. “They have twelve minutes to pull out something magical.”
The huddle is intense, every head bowed together as the coaches and players confer.
The ref blows the whistle, and Clay stays on the bench.
But when the other Kodiaks take the floor, it’s with a new energy.
Everyone chips in.
Jay grabs a steal from Isaac.
Rookie runs circles around the LA defense, cutting into the pain to get a drop-off pass from Atlas, who’s moving his feet better than I’ve seen all season.
Miles lurks in the corners and sinks two three-pointers in the first shift.
It’s working.
But LA is bringing their game up, too.
In the final two minutes, it’s neck and neck. Both teams have ramped up their defences, stopping multiple attempts in a row.
At sixty seconds, it’s still tied.
Thirty.
Twenty.
Ten.
LA calls a time out to draw up a play, but it’s Denver that makes the first substitution.
I’m wiping a hand over my own sweating forehead when Clay rises from his seat and strips off his jacket and tearaway pants.
“What is he doing?” Brooke demands.
“He’s going back out,” I whisper.
He’s not operating at full capacity. I can tell, and so can everyone else in here.
But they have a plan.
When the time out is over, LA inbounds the ball over Miles to Isaac, who takes off toward the basket.
Atlas is in the right place. He sets a screen that gives Jay time to snatch the ball away from Isaac. He turns and passes to Clay, who’s open near half court.
The crowd is deafening.
Clay nods to Miles, shouting something it’s impossible to hear over the arena roar, and Miles takes off toward the basket.
Clay brings the ball up the court as LA scrambles to get back.
Five seconds.
He palms the ball in one hand, pulling back as he nods to Miles in the corner.
Every eye is on Clay and his intended recipient.
Four.
LA rushes to double Miles, eager to intercept the incoming pass.
Three.
Clay pivots and release the ball…
Two.
…to Rookie, slicing through the middle of the paint.
The entire arena is on its feet. We all watch, holding our breath.
With one second remaining, he rises up in front of the basket.
Every guy on the court has both eyes on the ball. Denver watches with hope, LA with horror at the deception.
Brooke grabs my hand, squeezing hard enough it hurts.
Rookie slams the ball home with both hands.
The entire building is deafening.
“They did it!” I shout.
“We did it!” Brooke hollers.
Conference champions.
We run down toward the floor to meet the guys. Even with our VIP passes, it’s a few minutes before we can find our way through the confetti and security.
It helps that Clay spots us and comes to grab my hand, tugging me through the crowd.
I throw my arms in the air and he lifts me up, spinning me around. He’s sweaty and triumphant and I wouldn’t have him any other way.
“How does it feel?” I holler over the crowd.
“Like we fucking won.” When he sets me down, he presses his grinning lips to mine.
“Please tell me your knee is okay,” I murmur after pulling back an inch.
“Nothing a few days of rest won’t fix,” he promises.
“What happened to your championship ring from LA? The box was empty.”
“I sold it to cover Coach’s ceremony and chip in for his retirement. Figured it was kind of poetic.”
I’m laughing and crying at once. “You did say it was only ever good for pawning or smashing drywall.”
“You sold your ring?” Jay demands.
“Your championship ring?” Rookie shrieks, appalled.
Clay jerks his chin at his friends, sweat shining on his forehead.
Miles descends, wrapping a sweaty arm around each of them.
“Let’s get the man a new one.”