Chapter 19
Nia
The second I slid into the backseat of the black sedan, I let my head fall against the leather and finally exhaled. The driver greeted me politely before pulling away from the curb, and I watched the city lights blur together through the window. What a day. What a week.
But then there was Cal. And David. Having both of them in the same room had made me more uncomfortable than I wanted to admit.
I shifted in my seat and looked back out the window.
What was I supposed to do with whatever was happening with Cal?
I knew he cared about me. I wasn't naive enough to think all those years together had been meaningless.
But this... this was different. His jealousy, the lingering looks, the way he forgot Veronica existed the second he looked at me, the way he offered to take me home, and the way he looked at David all made it impossible to ignore that something between us had changed.
I had spent years making peace with the fact that Cal and I would probably always circle each other without ever really landing.
Then David walked into my life, and he was kind, attentive, and patient in ways I wasn't used to.
He actually listened when I talked, remembered the little things I mentioned in passing, and never made me question where I stood with him.
Cal had been right about one thing, though.
David didn't really fit into this world.
He wasn't used to the late nights, the loud personalities, or the endless joking and trash-talking that came with athletes and the people around them.
Sitting in that section tonight, he looked just a little out of place, like he was stepping into a world he had never expected to be a part of.
And somehow, I still liked him. I wanted to know him better, to spend more time with him, and to see where all of this attention and effort could lead.
There was something refreshing about being with a man who was so intentional, and a part of me wanted to allow myself the chance to experience whatever this could become.
And I couldn't really do that if Cal kept looking at me the way he had lately.
The sedan rolled to a stop outside my townhouse. I thanked the driver and stepped out, my heels clicking softly against the walkway. The house was quiet when I stepped inside. I slipped my shoes off and tossed my clutch onto the entry table when my phone started ringing.
Caleb.
I stared at his name for a long moment. My thumb hovered over the screen. Then, I let it ring. I couldn't do this tonight.
After showering and changing into a large t-shirt, my phone vibrated.
David's name lit up my screen, and despite everything that had happened that night, a smile still found its way across my face.
We texted back and forth for a little while, joking about tonight's events.
Eventually, he told me to get some sleep because I had earned it after such a big day.
Before putting my phone down, one last message came through:
Goodnight, beautiful.
I smiled to myself before typing back:
Goodnight, Wall Street.
Sleep came quicker than I expected. When I opened my eyes the next morning, sunlight spilled across my room and my phone was buzzing against the nightstand. One new message.
Caleb: Check your mailbox.
I frowned. I pulled on a pair of shorts and walked outside barefoot, still trying to wake up.
Tucked neatly inside my mailbox was a small white box wrapped with a black ribbon.
There wasn't a card or some grand romantic gesture attached to it, just the simple little box waiting for me to open it.
I carried it back inside and sat at the kitchen island before opening it.
The moment the lid lifted, my heart squeezed.
Resting inside was a delicate white gold tennis bracelet.
Dangling from it was the smallest little gold basketball charm.
I picked it up carefully between my fingers.
It wasn't flashy or over the top, and that was exactly what made it so special.
It was thoughtful in a way that only someone who had truly known me for years could be, and somehow that made my heart ache even more.
Nobody knew what basketball meant to me.
Not really. People knew about the injury.
They knew I had almost gone pro, and they knew I worked with athletes, but very few people understood what I had actually lost. They didn't know what it felt like to spend your entire childhood chasing one dream only to have your own body take it away from you.
They didn't know about the early morning workouts, the endless travel, the sacrifices, or the nights I fell asleep with a basketball beside my bed because I couldn't imagine my life without it.
They saw the scar and thought they knew the story, but they had never lived through the grief of watching the future you built disappear right in front of you.
That's why the little gold basketball hanging from the bracelet hit me so hard. It wasn't just jewelry. It was proof that somebody had seen the part of me I rarely let anyone touch.
Cal had been there through all of it. The surgeries, the tears, the anger, and the days when I couldn't even bring myself to watch a game because the pain of losing that life still sat too deep in my chest. There were moments when I questioned everything, when I wondered who I was without basketball, and nights when I cried over a future that was never going to happen.
Learning to let go of that dream had been one of the hardest things I had ever done, and even now, there were days when the hurt found its way back to me.
My thumb brushed across the tiny basketball. I leaned against the counter and closed my eyes. Why now? Why after all these years? Why after I had finally opened the door for somebody else?
The bracelet rested quietly in my palm while my phone buzzed again. I already knew who it was before I looked. And somehow… the timing felt entirely unfair.