Hook Shot (Hoops #3)(117)

“Three,” she spits.

“Oh, yeah.” I scowl up at him. “Three. Four. If you’re still standing here at five, I start destroying shit.”

With a growl that may as well be a whimper, he turns on his heel and strides from the room.

I turn back to my friends and grin.

“Chicken shit,” I say with a cackle. I high five Yari and go to do the same with Billie, but the tears in her eyes stop me. “Oh, honey. He’s not worth your tears. You can do better. You’ll find someone better.”

“I know that.” She sniffs and gives us a tremulous grin. “But my heart has to catch up to what’s right.”

I caress the small square hidden in my pocket, its words tucked away on a shelf in my soul. Doing what’s right sometimes breaks our hearts. Knowing it’s right doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I know that firsthand.





44





Kenan





“He fakes left,” I tell August as we leave the practice facility. “You’ll have to guard him tight, and he’s a beast off the dribble.”

“I got it, Glad,” August replies, hefting his gym bag onto his shoulder.

“Don’t give him much room. Push him back so he has to take a lower percentage shot at least.”

“I watched the same film you did.” August pauses before we go our separate ways, his car on one side of the parking lot and mine on the other. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. This is the best season start we’ve ever had. This is our year, bruh. Why are you so uptight?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I know you got it. Just a lot going on, I guess.”

“Everything okay with Simone?”

August and Iris have been supportive and know the demands I’ve been juggling between the season and having Simone living with me.

“Yeah, she’s good, man. Thanks for asking.” I chuckle. “And being here for her is exactly what my mom needed. Ken and I were worried about her after my dad died, but taking care of Simone has given her a new lease on life. Dr. Packer says Simone’s much better.”

“Man, that’s great.”

“If you can believe it, Bridget’s even been on her best behavior.” I grimace. “I mean, it helps that she’s in New York and not here. Who knows if our truce will hold once she moves back out west for the summer? But for now, I think we’re in the best place we’ve been in a long time. What happened with Simone was a wake-up call for us both.”

“Sounds like everything is lining up,” August says, hesitating before going on. “So does that mean you and Lotus . . .”

“Soon.” I smile, even though it hurts to even hear her name. “I think really soon.”

“That’s what I like to hear. You guys deserve it.” August daps me up and turns to go. “Okay. I promised Iris I’d be home right after practice, so I’mma roll out. See you on the plane.”

Tomorrow’s game is the first of a pretty brutal road trip. Four games before we return to San Diego. That means a week away from home. I’ll have some quality time with Simone, though, when I drive her up to this dance camp in Laguna Beach today. At least she’ll be gone for a good part of my time away and will feel the impact less.

I’m clicking “the tank” unlocked when a guy with a mic approaches me. I haven’t had to worry about tabloids for a while, but I know a reporter when I see one.

“Glad, hey!” he yells, his phone thrust toward me to record. “You excited the Baller Bae season is ending?”

“I don’t discuss my personal life,” I auto reply. “You got a question about basketball, get a media credential and show up at a press conference after the game. Otherwise, no comment.”

I climb into the car and start the engine.

“And what about Lotus?” he yells right as my foot hovers over the accelerator. “That girl you were dating this summer?”

I grit my teeth and try to talk myself out of engaging, but it’s a battle lost. I roll down my window and try to ignore the satisfaction in the creep’s eyes.

“What about her?”

“Well, rumor is that she’s dating that photographer again,” he says in a rush. “Bridget claimed she was cheating on you with him. What do you have to—”

I roll up my window and pull off.

Son of a bitch. That’s what I get for giving him the time of day.

My finger twitches over the button on my steering wheel that would dial her. We’ve talked some. It wouldn’t be completely out of the norm for me to call. We’ve kept each other abreast of our lives.

“Fuck it.”

I hit the button.

“Kenan?”

Her voice in my car makes me want to blow off my road trip and go get her. Fly to New York and bring her home with me.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Obviously, it’s you, dumbass. “Uh, how you doing?”

“Good.” She pauses, clears her throat. “I got your card yesterday. So you a poet now?”

My own laughter almost catches me off guard. This summer, I forgot how much time I spend alone. How little I actually talk to people most of the time because I laughed, I talked, I felt more freely myself with Lotus than I ever have with anyone else.