Chapter 54
Chapter Fifty-Four
NAOMI
Not once in my career did I ever question whether I was on a lucky streak.
I worked hard. I put in the hours.
As Alisha loved to remind me, I did the boring stuff, and it served me well.
I was questioning it now that I was in touching distance of crossing the final thing off my athlete bucket list.
Sam and I seemed to be creating magic on the court whenever we were on it together.
We were in sync, and our communication was strong.
There wasn’t a single player we faced on the other side of the net that we didn’t understand, and it was working in our favour.
We were winning well, and we were winning quickly.
Which had been helpful for Sam as he reached the semi-finals in the singles.
But not helpful for me as I waited for the other shoe to drop.
Which it did the night before our gold medal match.
Wyatt, Jamie, and Sam were huddled in the kitchen of the house we were staying in.
I expected Sam and Wyatt to be there, but Jamie’s presence immediately got my hackles raised.
As did the looks on all their faces when they became aware of my presence in the room. I waited for one of them to say something.
When none of them did, I crossed my arms and levelled a gaze at them.
“Just tell me what’s wrong.”
Sam ran a hand over the back of his neck. His left hand. I saw the way his nose scrunched in discomfort.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
Wyatt scoffed and muttered, “She really does always know,” before he settled his arms on the kitchen island and steepled his fingers under his chin.
“Not that bad,” Sam answered.
I ignored him and looked at Jamie.
“It’s not that bad. A slight strain at worst,” Jamie confirmed.
“And in your professional opinion, what should he do about it?”
Jamie and I both knew the answer.
He let out a sigh. “He should rest. Not put any unnecessary stress on his shoulder for a couple of weeks.”
“I’m not gonna do that. It’s one more match,” Sam said. Sternly.
I rolled my eyes and let my arms drop to my sides. “It’s August. Your season runs through until November. It’s not one more match,” I pointed out.
“Right now, it is one more match. A gold medal match.”
He walked over to me, taking my hands in his. His touch was warm, his eyes gentle but serious. I felt tears gather in the corner of my eyes.
“Look, even if I didn’t play tomorrow, I would still be out until the US. One match won’t make a difference,” he reasoned.
I looked over his shoulder at Jamie, who nodded.
“He’s not wrong. If we wrap it properly and he tries to keep things off his backhand, which will be easier with you on the court, I don’t think he’ll make it worse. To be clear, I’m not recommending that, but there is nothing I can say to stop him from playing this particular match,” he confirmed.
“And he’s not wrong,” Sam said firmly. “I’m playing tomorrow. We’re getting this gold medal. Then I won’t pick up a racquet for however long is necessary.”
I knew there was no point in trying to argue this. Sam wasn’t going to budge, and if Jamie thought that he would be okay enough to play, then I had to take him at his word.
I hated the idea of Sam knowingly playing with an injury, but I also couldn’t deny that if I were him, I’d be stepping out on court tomorrow no matter what anyone told me.
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” I mumbled as he wrapped his arms around me, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and held me.