Chapter 15 #2
After showering, I stood in front of the mirror wearing nothing but a towel while slicking my hair carefully into a clean bun.
I barely recognized myself without my usual mane of curls framing my face.
The style exposed everything: my cheekbones, my eyes.
I threw on a fitted black Alo set with a cropped zip jacket layered over the sports bra and paired it with fresh white sneakers before grabbing my bag and heading out the door.
The second I climbed into my truck, my playlist immediately blasted through the speakers loud enough to wake me up properly.
By the time I hit the freeway toward the arena, I was fully singing along and tapping the steering wheel while the Houston sunrise slowly lit the city around me.
God, I loved game day energy. Especially in Houston.
The city felt electric whenever basketball mattered.
When I arrived at the Houston Phantoms Arena that morning, staff already moved quickly throughout the lower levels preparing for the madness coming later that evening.
Equipment crews rolled carts through the tunnels while security guards checked credentials at every entrance.
Giant digital screens throughout the arena flashed promotional graphics for J5’s return game while media crews already hovered around different sections preparing for coverage. And it was only morning.
I made my way toward the private training section beneath the arena where players handled recovery, rehab, and pregame preparation away from the cameras. The second I walked inside, J5 looked up from the stationary bike and pointed dramatically.
“There she is. My favorite drill sergeant.”
I laughed while dropping my bag onto one of the training tables. “You ready?”
He stood slowly before bouncing lightly on his knees. “As ready as I'll ever be," he said with a grin.
“Good,” I replied.
I could tell the nerves were real today. For all the confidence and trash talking J5 normally carried, this comeback mattered deeply to him. His entire career narrative changed tonight depending on how he looked stepping back onto that court.
So we kept the morning light intentionally.
We started with mobility work first before moving into controlled warmup drills.
Short explosive bursts. Defensive slides.
Lateral movement testing. Jump stops. Acceleration work.
Every movement looked clean. Strong. Fluid.
And with every drill he completed successfully, I watched more confidence return to his body.
“Again,” I instructed while tossing him the ball near the wing.
J5 planted hard, exploded toward the basket, and finished smoothly at the rim before landing cleanly. No hesitation. That alone almost made me emotional.
“Okayyyy!” I shouted while clapping loudly. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
He laughed hard while backing up, breathing heavily. “See? I told y’all I was back.”
“Don’t get cocky yet,” I teased. “You still got work to do.”
We spent nearly two hours going through final movement prep, stretching, film review, and recovery treatment before finally slowing things down.
By then, sweat covered both of us while music played softly through the speakers in the training room.
J5 sat quietly on the treatment table while I wrapped one of his knees with compression tape carefully.
Then out of nowhere, his voice softened. “For real though,” he said quietly. “I appreciate you.”
I looked up briefly. “You did this,” I replied automatically.
“Nah.” He shook his head immediately. “You pushed me through this.” Something about the sincerity in his voice hit me harder than I expected. “You stayed on me every single day even when I was being difficult.”
“You were very difficult,” I laughed softly.
“I know,” he grinned. “But seriously Nia… there were days I ain’t think I was getting back out there like this.”
I tied the final piece of tape before looking up at him fully. “And what did I tell you every single time?”
His grin spread slowly. “That your job was to get me healthy and my job was to trust you.”
“Exactly.”
For a second, he just looked at me quietly before shaking his head. “You're about to have every athlete in the league calling your phone after tonight.”
I laughed while standing up. “Good. My rates going up.”
J5 laughed while grabbing his towel from the bench nearby. “Hey, I’m not mad at it,” he replied honestly. “You definitely worth it.”
I smiled softly at that because compliments from athletes usually rolled right off me after a while, but hearing it from somebody who trusted me with their career comeback felt different.
“Don’t gas me up too much before tipoff,” I teased while gathering my things.
“Nah,” he shook his head seriously this time. “I mean that.”
We wrapped up shortly afterward and headed separate ways so he could start transitioning into official team prep with coaches and training staff.
Meanwhile, I made my way deeper into the restricted lower level beneath the arena toward the private staff locker rooms. The closer game time got, the more chaotic everything around me became.
Arena staff moved quickly through the tunnels carrying equipment while PR teams rushed around finalizing media access and security checkpoints.
The energy underneath the arena felt completely different on game days. Tighter. More intense. Like everybody was operating on adrenaline.
I slipped into the private wellness room first to freshen up before the game.
I touched up my makeup lightly, reapplied lip gloss, and tightened my slick bun after a few curls escaped during training.
By then, the nerves sitting in my stomach had fully transformed into excitement. Tonight was finally happening.
Afterward, I headed upstairs toward one of the private hospitality lounges where Mars waited for me near the food stations, scrolling through her phone.
“There she is,” Mars smiled while immediately handing me a smoothie. “You need to eat something before you pass out in somebody’s hallway.”
“I’m fine,” I laughed while taking the smoothie anyway.
I grabbed a few small things from catering—fruit, chicken skewers, and a wrap—enough to hold me over through the game.
The hospitality level had already started filling with executives, celebrity guests, sponsors, and media personalities preparing for tipoff.
Everybody looked polished and important while conversations floated around us about betting odds, comeback predictions, and J5’s expected performance.
The pressure surrounding his return was enormous.
You could feel it everywhere. Mars and I sat near the edge of the lounge overlooking the lower bowl while giant screens throughout the arena streamed pregame coverage.
I leaned back quietly after that, looking down toward the court below where arena staff rushed around making final preparations.
Months of carrying the pressure of making sure one of the league’s biggest stars returned healthy. And now, everybody was finally about to see the results.
Then, while my eyes scanned the floor, my gaze locked onto the elevated media platform near halfcourt.
Seated right there beside the broadcast legends was Cal, looking incredibly sharp in a tailored suit.
Even from up here, his presence was impossible to ignore.
As if he felt my eyes on him, he looked up toward the lounge, and a soft, genuine smile spread across his face.
I couldn't help but smile right back, a wave of pride drowning out the chaos of the week.
For a second I forgot all about the emotional confusion between us and simply felt proud. Genuinely proud.
Because I knew how badly he’d wanted this opportunity for years.
The closer tipoff got, the louder the arena became.
Every seat in the lower bowl had filled while celebrities, former athletes, influencers, and executives continued pouring courtside.
Giant graphics flashed across the jumbotron hyping J5’s return, while bass-heavy music shook through the arena loud enough to vibrate in my chest.
Houston showed up tonight. The city needed this. The Phantoms had struggled last season after J5’s injury, and everybody knew his return shifted the energy of the entire franchise again.
I stood near the bench area beside the assistant trainers while the team finished final warmups.
Sweat glistened across the hardwood under the bright arena lights while sneakers squeaked nonstop across the floor.
Every few seconds, another camera flashed toward J5 while reporters crowded near the sidelines, hoping to capture footage before the game officially started.
“You good?” I asked quietly while handing him his water bottle.
J5 bounced lightly on his knees before nodding. “Yeah.”
But I knew him well enough by now to recognize the nerves sitting underneath the confidence. His jaw kept tightening slightly every few seconds while he stared out into the crowd.
So I stepped closer. “Listen to me.”
His eyes shifted toward mine immediately.
“You already did the hard part,” I told him calmly. “The surgeries. The rehab. The doubt. That was the difficult part. Tonight is just basketball.”