Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Five Months Later
“Timeout,” UConn’s coach yells, and I take a quick glance at the jumbotron above center court.
Eleven seconds.
73-73.
We jog over, huddling in close to our coaching staff.
“They’re going to full-court press you, and they’ll likely try to keep the ball out of Shay’s hands.
” She uses her dry erase marker to show us the play.
“Erica, come up and set the pick on Shay’s defender.
Darby, if we can’t get anyone open, I still have a timeout left, so be smart.
” She pats her on the shoulder. “And whoever gets the ball anticipates the foul immediately.”
“We got this, ladies… Let’s go win a national championship.” I smile at them, hyping up my teammates and believing every word.
We all stick our hands in the middle. “Wolves, on three,” Coach says.
“1,2,3… Wolves!”
The buzzer rings out through the arena, signaling the end of the timeout, when I hear a familiar voice shout, “Hey, Little Moore.”
I look up a few rows behind our bench to where Mav’s sitting with my family. He gives me a wink, cupping his hands over his mouth to say, “You got this.”
Smirking, I nod at him. And as much as I want to win tonight, I know the biggest win of my life will always be that man right there.
The whistle is blown, and I run back onto the court.
Two of their best players are on me in tight coverage. But Darby is able to pass it in to Sherita. The defenders pull off me, trying to get to her in time to foul and send her to the free throw line, knowing their only chance at this point is to try to get the ball back as soon as possible.
I break away, and Sherita finds me. She passes it to me before they foul her, but the second I take two dribbles, one of their defenders slaps my arm.
The whistle is blown, and a foul is called. The shot clock is now at 3.3 seconds.
We’re in the double bonus, so even though I wasn’t shooting, I get two free throws.
I have to make these.
Darby pats me on the ass. “I believe in you, Shay-Shay.”
I take a deep breath as the referee passes the ball to me.
Dribbling the ball against the free throw line three times like I always do before I shoot.
Swoosh, the ball goes through the net.
Relief washes over me.
74-73.
My teammates give me high-fives before I line back up for my second shot.
Dribble. Dribble. Dribble. Shoot.
The crowd goes wild. 75-73.
Now we have to hold them.
We get into man-to-man defense, applying as much pressure as we can without fouling. Knowing my coach has one timeout left that she can call if they make it to half court.
Their guard slings it down the court, but before anyone gets to it, the buzzer sounds.
NATIONAL CHAMPIONS, BABY!!!
Excitement rushes over me. We did it.
We really did it.
This has been my dream for as long as I can remember, and it came true.
My teammates jump on me, our fans flooding the court. But there’s only one person I really want to see.
I spot Maverick from across the court and sprint toward him. He picks me up, lifting me in the air. “You did it, Point Guard. You did it,” he says as he spins me around.
Mav puts me down on my feet, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “I love you.”
“I love you.” I beam up at him.
I hear Symone’s squeal as her pom-pom smacks me in the butt. “Congrats, babe. You were amazing.”
Spinning around, I pull her into a hug. “Thanks, Sy, you were too. All these years with you on the sidelines for me. You sure you want to cheer for the New Orleans Phantoms instead of shooting your shot in the WNBA?”
She smiles. “You know the NFL has been my dream forever, but I’ll always be your tiny cheerleader bestie.”
“I know, and I’m a proud bestie!”
“Thanks, babe. Now go celebrate… I bet you’ll get MVP.” She winks, and I give her and Mav a hug before walking back to join my team.
A familiar face grabs my attention, a genuine smile on her face. “Congrats, Shay. Could I get a small interview for The Howler Report?”
“Sure.” I smile back. Ever since our interaction at Berkley’s baby shower, we haven’t talked much, but there’s been an ease between the two of us that wasn’t there right after everything happened.
“How does it feel to take the Wolves to the NCAA championship?” she asks, holding the microphone up to me.
“It feels…surreal,” I answer honestly.
“Hey, Shay,” someone interrupts. I glance over, not sure who it is. “ESPN would like to do an interview.”
As appreciative as I am, I don’t like that they interrupted the other interview I’m clearly in.
I feel Peyton withdraw from beside me, and I reach out to grab her arm gently. “I’m in the middle of an interview with my school’s reporter, then I’ll come right over.” I smile kindly, but leave no room for misinterpretation.
Peyton beams up at me. “Thank you.”
“Now where were we?”
“You were telling me how you were feeling in this moment.” She leans over, microphone in hand, and the camera guy readjusts to record me.
“Surreal, honestly. But I’m extremely grateful for this opportunity and my team who made it happen.”
“What’s next for Shay Moore?”
I smirk like I’m holding back a secret before I ask, “How would The Howler Report like to come with me to the WNBA draft?”
Peyton’s mouth drops open. “Seriously?”
I nod, a smile taking over my face. “Let’s do it!”
Peyton smiles into the camera. “You hear that, Wolves? Your very own is going to the draft…and we’ll be there to see it.”
She motions for the camera to cut and surprises me by pulling me into a hug. “Thank you, Shay, and congrats again.”
“Thank you. I fully expect to see you on national TV one day,” I say, hugging her back. “I hope you know I truly mean that.”
“I do… Now go before ESPN finds someone else to interview.” She winks.
Mav
Shay
Find a way to sneak away with me to my room before you have to leave.
Me
Naughty girl.
Being in love with my coach’s daughter is amazing until she makes me contemplate getting myself murdered right before a big game.
We’re currently in the hotel restaurant, finishing up a quick bite to eat. Coach and I flew in the morning to watch Shay’s game, but we’re catching a red eye tonight so we can get back to our own playoff match.
What could get me to her room without looking suspicious as fuck?
I glance around, hoping an idea jumps out of thin air at me. My attention snags on my duffle bag and an idea forms.
“Shay, did you remember to bring my lucky jersey?”
“Oh yeah, it’s in our hotel room,” she answers and takes a sip of her drink, trying to act nonchalant.
“Can I run up and get it? You know I can’t show up to the locker room without it.” I smile, which is true, but in reality, my lucky jersey is safely tucked away in the duffle bag currently at my feet.
She stands, pulling out her key card, and nods. “Come on, I’ll show you. We’ll be right back,” she says to her family, not giving anyone the opportunity to object.
“Leblanc,” Coach calls out as I follow after his daughter, and I turn around, fully expecting him to tell me to sit my ass down and that it doesn’t take two people to go get a jersey, but instead, he gives me a pointed look and says, “Hurry back. We need to leave in a few.”
“Yes, sir.” I smile and follow Shay.
I pinch her ass as we get on the elevator. “You know there’s no way we’re getting a quickie in right now, right?”
She raises an eyebrow at me and tilts her head. “You sure about that?”
I bite my lip. “Okay, maybe you’re right,” I practically groan as my eyes trail up and down her body. “With the way you look right now, I can be real quick.”
“First off, I’m a hot mess. Locker room showers with no hair product is not a good look for me. Second, I didn’t get you up to my room to bang you.”
The elevator stops on the fifth floor, and she sashays off the elevator.
“Well, that’s unfortunate. So why did you want to lure me back to your room, Point Guard? Excuuuse meee, National Champion-Point Guard,” I tease like the proud boyfriend I am and tickle her side.
Shay wiggles her ass and swipes her key card. “I have something I want to show you.”
“Did you get me a souvenir when you and the team went exploring yesterday?” I ask, because she knows I’m a sucker for a destination coffee mug.
She bites her lip and a little blush creeps onto her face. “I did get you a little souvenir, actually,” she says, pulling the waistband of her pants down, showing me the side of her hip where she has fresh ink marked on her creamy skin.
Roman Numerals.
XXIII.
23.
My mouth drops wide open as I stare.
Reaching out, I gently trace my thumb over the clear bandage covering the black ink.
“Contrary to what you may think, I did not get this for Michael Jordan.”
I look up into her honey eyes. “You better not have… MJ may be the GOAT, but I’m your man.”
She laughs at that, and my eyes go back to her exposed hip. “I can’t believe you did this.”
Shay reaches over, gently rubbing the outside of my pants over my thigh where her handwriting is inked permanently into me.
“I wanted to have a reminder of you, just like you do for me. So yesterday, when a couple of the girls decided to get small tattoos at this walk-in shop here in the city, I knew there was no better time. And since you always say my jersey brings you good luck, I needed you to know your numbers were with me today, bringing home the win.”
I squat down beside her and press a kiss right below it. “I love it. It means the world to me.”
She drops her knees, cupping my face in her hands. “You mean the world to me, Maverick.”
Then she sears her lips to mine, leaving another permanent mark on my heart. The one that beats for her and only her.