Chapter 7
CHARLOTTE
Christmas Eve…
Everyone smiles and claps as Franklin lifts Summer into the air so she can place a star on top of the Christmas tree. I move to stand beside Giana, holding her son, Leo, in her arms.
“Byron has bought Leo a mini basketball for Christmas.” She rolls her eyes. “He is seven years too early.” She shakes her head as though my brother is clueless.
Leo wiggles as Summer runs past. Giana lowers Leo to the carpet so he can crawl after his cousin.
“Perhaps he can headbutt the ball.” I giggle under my breath because the kid is only seven months old.
“He might want to play soccer.” She raises an eyebrow.
“Keep that to yourself.” I wink at her. “Basketball flows through the Hendricks’ veins.”
Little Carson Jr. screams as he toddles past with his hands in the air. Carson Jr. is thirteen months old, and Penny and Franklin are planning a third child.
“He screams like his father,” Byron muses.
Franklin glares at him. “You’ll be screaming in a minute when I—”
“I’ll open that bottle of whiskey,” my father, Carson Senior, interrupts.
“The fifty-year-old bottle of Macallan you’ve been hiding?” Franklin peels off his navy suit jacket.
“It’s a fine year to celebrate,” Dad shoots over his shoulder.
Celebrate. Three grandchildren. Three married sons. Their family unit is growing, and they cannot be prouder.
Christmas hasn’t been the same since Brandon left.
The year after he was traded, Mom stopped buying those hideous Christmas sweaters.
The lame jokes he and Byron used to share disappeared, too, leaving an uncomfortable silence in their place.
The little presents he used to pick out for everyone are just fading memories now, though I still remember the chocolates he’d send from Australia—always my favorite.
But more than anything, I miss him. I miss the good years when it was just the two of us stealing moments alone.
The way he’d hold my hand under the table, out of sight from everyone else.
The way his eyes locked onto mine, so full of something I thought was real.
I let out a shaky breath, realizing how foolish I was to believe we had a future.
Loud laughter brings me out of my stupid daydream.
Everyone is happy and where they should be in life.
Everyone except me.
My brother, Jobe, runs into the room, chasing Summer.
She screams and turns to see how close he is without slowing down.
Everyone is playing around and laughing, and I can’t find the happiness to join in.
While I love being around my family, I feel disconnected, like I’m stuck in some sort of limbo instead of finding love like my brothers.
“I’m calling Shelly to collect the children and prepare them for bedtime,” Mom announces. “It’s time we moved into the dining room.” My father enters the room with a fancy bottle of whiskey. “Bring it with you, Carson.”
He looks around the room. “What did I miss?”
Zara lands a hand on my father’s shoulder. “General family chaos.” She laughs.
Shelly arrives to take the children upstairs, and I couldn’t be more grateful for our nanny.
We take our seats at the table, mine beside Byron.
It is the only time our family will be together, and I want to chat with my family without being interrupted by the children.
I love them dearly, but tonight, I need adult conversation with the people I love and trust. Tomorrow, my brothers will be with their wives’ families, except for Byron.
We’ll both be at the midday game, then he’ll head to Giana’s parents later, and I’ll be anywhere but home alone.
I can’t face a big empty house at Christmas, a time when the world celebrates joy.
It’s Christmas morning, and I’m already dressed, waiting for Rocky, my driver, to pick me up for the game. The room is quiet except for the soft tapping of my fingers on the keyboard as I type out an email. Just as I hit send, my phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with an incoming call.
Jesus, it’s Christmas.
Lex is the best scout, but surely, it can wait until game time.
“Merry Christmas, Lex.”
“Merry Christmas, Charlotte. Are you sitting down?”
“Why do I not have faith you’re bringing good news.”
“The Stingers want Vince. The board wants the trade to happen before January.”
“For whom?” My heart thumps in my chest as it speeds up. “You know my answer.”
“I do. His name hasn’t been mentioned again, but I wanted to bring you up to speed. If something is mentioned in the meeting before the game, I don’t want you to be surprised.”
“Do my brothers know?”
“They are head of basketball operations, so yes.”
“Yet I’m chief governor. Why was I not alerted first?”
“Charlotte, you have bigger things to worry about. The final decision is yours. I only wanted to prepare you.”
“Thank you. I’m grateful for the call.”
“I’ll see you at the game.”
Three hours before tip-off, Rocky is waiting outside my home, and Dwayne is already in the car.
“Merry Christmas, gentlemen.”
The ride to the arena is filled with small talk about the morning with their families, and I’m grateful for the distraction. While I appreciate Lex’s phone call, it has my nerves on edge.
The distraction continues as soon as I enter the arena, caught in conversation with one corporate sponsor to another. The pregame meeting is uneventful, and no one mentions trading Vince. Thankfully, someone decided to keep the peace on Christmas Day.
Before heading to the corporate lunch, I stop by to see the children interacting with the LA Sharks’ Santa Claus and watching happy faces as they open their presents.
My chest expands knowing we are giving back, and I am grateful to their families for giving us their time on a special day to support our team.
We ensure every child receives a free gift and basketball apparel.
I laugh, finally finding some joy in my heart, hearing the children scream excitedly upon seeing their gifts. Giving is a part of my job I love, and I will always endorse the funding. The fans’ appreciation is worth every dollar.
I head down to the locker room to catch the end of Coach Mathew’s speech. When he finishes, I clap and watch them shout to pump themselves up. Then I join them, place my hand in the center with the players’ larger hands, and yell, “Grateful.”
Before the players exit the tunnel, I walk ahead, my stiletto heels tapping with every step on the concrete. Today, I take a seat beside my brothers.
“Are the players ready?”
I glance up at Franklin’s dark eyes. “Always.” He nods and diverts his attention back to the court, flashing lights, and loud music.
“The answer to your other question is no.”
“What?”
“No,” I snap.
His gaze flicks over my serious face. “I know. It’s why I never brought it up.”
I nod, then turn back to the court and clap loudly as our team runs out onto the court. We didn’t mention Brandon’s name, and yet, my mind burns with memories.
Not so long ago, he was playing in the Christmas Day game alongside Byron.
They were a dynamic pair.
Those days are gone.
The Chicago Stingers are not playing on Christmas Day.
What is he doing? Who is he spending it with? Did he fly home for a brief vacation to be with his family in South Australia?
His friends’ names slip through my thoughts as I recollect the time he introduced me to his hometown friends. It turned into a romantic holiday rather than one as friends.
My lips tingle, remembering our first passionate kiss.
The crowd’s roar brings me back to the present, and I clap, cheering as my brother scores the first goal.