Chapter 38
CHARLOTTE
The crowd is angry, yelling at the refs as the buzzer sounds.
We’re back in LA after winning all three games in Philadelphia. And as luck has it, we are ten points down.
“I’m going into the locker room,” I tell Franklin.”
“Be invisible, Lottie.” We’re all eager to hear Coach’s plan, but if Byron and BJ see you, it might mess with their head.”
Walking through the tunnel, I barely hear the click of my heels with the noise of journalists, photographers, and sports commentators lining the walls. Cameras are shoved my way, and through my nerves, I crack a smile, waving the lens away from my face if they try to block my path.
“Charlotte. Charlotte,” is called repeatedly.
“No interviews until after the game,” I shoot over my shoulder.
As I near the locker room, the door is closed, and I can’t risk opening it and disrupting Coach Mathew’s speech. It’s not a problem as he is yelling so loud, I hear him from the other side.
“Nobody is playing the way we must to win,” he shouts. “We have gotten here one game at a time. Today is no different. You all need to believe and keep your head high. Focus. Buckle down and be ready when you go out there. The next quarter is yours if you want it. But you have to fight.”
I back away. The team doesn’t need a plan. They have practiced and practiced and know what they need to do. It’s up to them, but they have to want it more than Philadelphia does, more than anything at this particular moment in time. When I returned to my seat, my brothers asked what was said.
“Nothing. He said it’s up to them.”
Jobe considers it. “Well, there’s not much anyone can do at this point. They have learned everything they need to know regarding how to win.”
“Exactly.”
For the next quarter, we climb our way back, and it’s goal for goal until the buzzer sounds at the end of the third quarter.
I stand up and wiggle my legs. I’m so nervous, I don’t want to talk to anyone.
My thoughts drift, imagining lifting the NBA cup into the air, the streamers falling from overhead and covering the crowd like confetti.
The post-game speech with journalists and television crews.
The financial benefits for the club. The sheer joy of our fans.
I see it so clearly that I can almost taste the sweet victory.
Halfway through the last quarter, I unclench my fists, shivering at how my nails were digging into my palms, and yet I didn’t feel a thing.
For the next few minutes, Philadelphia stopped guarding.
Our guys notice and attack the hoop at every chance, sinking the basket and getting a foul for a free throw.
Within minutes, we hit the lead.
Four points.
Six points.
Nine-point lead.
We dominate rebounds.
We collect fast-break points and second-chance shots, and the opposition has lost their efficiency from the three-point line. Our guys are bigger than theirs, and we block the next three attempts at goals.
With one minute left on the clock, my heart races, anticipating the win.
My knees bounce nervously, and I hold my breath with every attempt Philadelphia has at goals.
I try to control the excitement, but it’s almost bursting out of me.
However, as the clock counts down, it’s clear we are going to win.
The buzzer sounds, and I fly out of my seat, both arms in the air.
My heart is racing as though I was on the court myself.
My family hugs with excited laughter.
We have just made basketball history for our team, and I’m so fucking proud.
Our players are jumping around, swinging their jerseys in the air.
Finding some composure, I head down the stairs and stand with the NBA executives as they wheel a stage onto the court, where the commissioner takes the mic.
“Congratulations to the Los Angeles Sharks.” The entire arena erupts in applause. I catch a glimpse of Brandon. His jersey is off, and my name is clearly inked on his chest.
He sees me and points, then touches his heart. I pat my heart, reiterating my love for him.
While there are several speeches, I zone out, looking over the crowd, reveling in their joy. I will never forget this moment. I will feel the excitement deep in my soul forever.
“And the MVP for the championship series goes to Byron Hendricks.”
My smile almost splits my face, and I clap my hands so hard they sting. Watching my brother receive the top individual award is a dream come true—for him and our family. He holds his trophy in the air as he stands behind the mic.
“MVP,” is chanted through the arena.
“Thank you to the fans and every person who made the game possible. While it is an honor to receive the MVP award, I want to thank Philadelphia, you put up a strong fight. I also want to thank the LA Sharks, the best team in the competition.” The crowd cheers.
“My friends and my family. The coaches and everyone behind the scenes that no one sees. But all I can say is about damn time!”
The crowd screams.
The deputy commissioner leans close. “Tell us how this feels different. A few years ago, you suffered a season-ending injury. Did you see yourself standing here? What changed for you?”
Byron beams his smile, and my heart swells for him.
“As you know, I have a supportive family.” Damn right you do.
“And an amazing wife and two beautiful kids. Having those people love and support you fills you with unimaginable gratitude. As everyone knows, we were a great team, but we needed something extra. I’m so thankful our man, BJ, returned to the Sharks because, without him, none of this would be possible. ”
Holy shit. He said it.
I quickly swipe my happy tears. Could my heart be any fuller?
Byron holds up the trophy. “This is not only for me, this is for everyone. So thank you. Thank you. And we’ll see you back here next year!”
The crowd goes crazy, chanting and cheering. I cover my ears as the noise is deafening. Standing on the stage is something else. The atmosphere just swallows you up, so I jump up and down with the crowd, pointing my finger in the air.
The speeches come to an end, and the excitement slows. The players eventually make their way to the tunnel, jumping around and bubbling with exhilaration. Brandon loops his arm over my shoulders and almost skips toward the locker room.
Inside the locker room, families await the players’ arrival. Families merge with the players and staff, and I can barely hear myself think. Leaning on the back wall, I watch as though it’s a movie playing out in front of me, and my family is the stars.
We’ve had financial success with many businesses. My family is no strangers to fame. Only this feels different—a fantasy come to life.
In front of his locker, Brandon wraps both arms around his mom, then releases one arm and includes his father. I watch as more than love passes between them.
Patience.
Understanding.
Loss of time.
A family unit broken for a dream.
Gratitude.
He lifts his head from his father’s shoulder and sees me watching him.
He releases his parents and pulls me into him, bear-hugging me before resting his forehead on mine.
I feel the weight of a beautiful moment pass between us.
Lifting his hand, he aligns it against mine.
He swipes a tear from his eye, and my heart swells seeing Brandon this happy.
Beautifully vulnerable.
One by one, the players shout out praise, thanking everyone for all the support.
Brandon looks at me. “Can I please say something really quick?” The players groan in a teasing way.
“First, I want to thank the staff for convincing me to return to the Sharks. I always knew this was my home, and I appreciate that you all believe in me. To Byron, the only player I ever wanted to play beside. Thank you for giving me a chance to do that. If we hadn’t met in college all those years ago, I can’t imagine where I would be now.
To the Hendricks family for treating me like a son when I was so far away from home.
” He looks at his parents. “Mum and Dad, I owe you more than what I can describe for giving me this opportunity, knowing you’d barely see your son for at least ten years.
I love you, and I’ve missed you both every day.
” He looks at me. “To Lottie. Thank you for believing in me but know this… the next ring on your finger will not be a championship one.”
I can’t hold back the tears. He wraps his arms around me. “I love you, Lottie. I always will.”
“I know,” I whisper, the tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Put a ring on it,” Byron chants from behind as he wraps both his arms around Brandon and me, sandwiching me between the two guys I love the most.