Chapter 15 #3
He exhaled slowly through his nose while listening carefully.
“You don’t have to prove anything tonight,” I continued. “Just trust your body and play your game.”
For a second, he just looked at me before nodding again. “Bet.”
The lights inside the arena suddenly dimmed low enough that the crowd immediately started screaming louder. Game time.
The intro graphics exploded across the jumbotron while flames shot upward near the tunnel entrance and the announcer’s voice boomed throughout the building, introducing the starting lineup.
The entire floor shook from the crowd noise while players slapped hands and jogged through the smoke-filled tunnel one by one.
And when they announced J5?
The arena absolutely lost it.
People stood screaming so loudly I could barely hear myself think, while phones lit up everywhere recording his entrance. J5 jogged onto the floor calm and focused, but even from where I stood, I could see emotion flicker briefly across his face as he took in the moment.
The opening tip finally went up and the energy inside the arena somehow got even louder.
The game started fast immediately, both teams playing aggressive while adrenaline clearly pumped through everybody on the floor.
J5 eased into the game carefully during the first few possessions, mostly facilitating movement and spacing while testing his rhythm again under real game pressure.
But midway through the first quarter?
Everything changed.
The opposing guard tried pressing him high near halfcourt, and J5 hit him with one quick crossover before exploding straight to the rim.
And when I say exploding… I mean exploding.
Fast. Violent. Confident. He elevated cleanly above traffic and finished hard at the basket before landing smoothly on both feet.
The arena erupted instantly. I literally felt myself stop breathing for half a second because that single play told me everything I needed to know. He trusted his body again.
J5 jogged backward, smiling while the crowd screamed louder than before, and the second his eyes found mine near the bench area, I pointed at him immediately—like yes… exactly that.
By the second quarter, he looked fully back in rhythm. Pull-up jumpers. Defensive stops. Transition buckets. His movement looked fluid and natural again, and every good play only fed the crowd more energy.
At one point during a timeout, one of the assistant coaches leaned toward me, shaking his head. “You got him back.”
I laughed softly, trying not to get emotional. Pride sat heavily in my chest. Because although the world would only see the performance tonight, I knew what it took to rebuild an athlete mentally after an injury like that. Seeing him trust himself again felt bigger than basketball, honestly.
During halftime, I finally glanced upward toward the media platform again where Cal sat comfortably beside the other analysts, looking completely in his element now.
The cameras loved him. Confident without sounding forced.
Funny at the right moments. Sharp with his analysis.
Every time the broadcast cut toward him, he looked natural sitting there discussing spacing, defensive rotations, and J5’s movement patterns like he’d been doing national television forever.
During a timeout midway through the fourth quarter, I finally allowed myself a second to actually look around and take everything in.
The arena glowed underneath flashing lights while music blasted through the speakers and fans screamed over one another, trying to get on the jumbotron.
Celebrities and executives filled the courtside seats while servers rushed drinks back and forth through the aisles. Houston was alive tonight.
I found myself scanning through the crowd again absentmindedly while the players huddled near the bench.
Then, suddenly, my heart nearly beat straight out of my chest.
Oh my God.
Sitting courtside, a few seats to my left… was David. In the flesh. Whose rich chocolate eyes were already locked directly onto me, like he’d felt me notice him.
David and Cal in the same building suddenly felt like a terrible idea. My stomach flipped immediately while panic crept up my spine, because Cal sat less than thirty feet away above us on the media platform. I suddenly needed water. Or tequila. Maybe both.
David smiled warmly before lifting his hand toward me casually, like this was completely normal. I smiled back automatically and waved softly in return, trying my best not to look visibly stressed.
Part of me felt genuinely happy seeing him there.
The fact that he showed up mattered; he knew how important tonight was for me.
But another part of me immediately tensed, knowing Cal was so close nearby.
Because after last weekend, I genuinely had no idea how he would react seeing David here in person.
Almost like my anxiety summoned him, my eyes drifted upward instinctively toward the media platform again.
And unfortunately, Cal had already noticed.