Hook Shot (Hoops #3)(94)

“Age before beauty today, Rook,” I tell him through harsh puffs of air.

“Don’t feel too bad,” August says, swiping Gatorade from his lips. “I’m sure your girlfriend Lotus thinks you’re beautiful.”

That sparks the curiosity and jokes I’m sure he knew it would.

“Glad got him a girl?”

“When do we meet her?”

“Bet she’s a dime.”

I can barely focus for the rest of the practice with all the grown-ass men asking me nosy questions about my girl.

“Bet you wish you’d let me win, huh?” August asks, grinning like a thirteen-year-old while we walk to the parking lot after practice.

“No, but you do.”

“Nice whip,” he says, whistling and walking around the Urus. “That max contract money is long, huh?”

Banner negotiated a max contract deal for me the year before I left Houston. Lucky for me, since I traded the following year. It gave me a nice paycheck before I left.

“You should talk.” I click the truck open. “You got that franchise tag money.”

“We both know which is longer,” he says with no spite and much humor. “You’ve earned it.”

“Get it while you can,” I tell him, sobering. “Too many of us live high on the hog, and then when it’s time to retire, the butcher is closed. Make your money. Invest your money, and then make more money. Banner told me that from the beginning, and is riding me about it at the end.”

“The end?” August goes still, leaning against the truck and frowning. “You ain’t trying to leave now, are you?”

I shrug. “Everybody hangs it up at some point.”

“You’re in better condition than everybody on the team.” August huffs a wry laugh. “Including me. You could play till you’re forty if you want.”

“The operative word being want.”

“Why wouldn’t you want?”

“There’s a lot more to life than ball. You know that, August.”

“Yeah, for sure, but I was hoping you’d help me win a ring before you hang up the ol’ gym bag.”

I chuckle and settle against the truck beside him. “I don’t know about that. I’ve missed a lot with Simone. This life is hard on families.”

“Yeah. I have to be really intentional about being present when I’m home since I’m gone so much.” He shakes his head. “Man, we had a great summer. So much time with Iris and Sarai. Iris had a great pregnancy.”

“You ready to be a dad again?” I ask.

“I guess. I’ve had Sarai since she was so small, she barely remembers anything before Iris and I were married.” He laughs. “Why? You got pro tips?”

“Shiiiiiiit.” I shake my head and offer a wry chuckle of my own. “I’m the last one handing out advice on fatherhood. I’m not exactly Simone’s favorite person right now.”

“How’d things go over the summer?”

“Okay. We were in family counseling while I was there. She’s still really struggling with the divorce. She thought we might get back together.”

“You?” August asks, his eyes wide and his brows up. “And Bridget? Get back together? Why would she think that?”

“She’s a kid and wants her life back.” I suck my teeth, disgusted with my ex. “And this Baller Bae show premiering soon won’t help. I’ve got a bad feeling about it. You know Bridget had the nerve to show up at Lotus’s job? Poking around and trying to scare her off.”

“Scare Lotus off?” August asks, his tone incredulous. “She obviously doesn’t know her. Lo doesn’t scare easily. I certainly wouldn’t cross her. And Simone’s not a fan?”

“Nope. Not at all.” I shrug and open the door to toss my gym bag in the back seat. “But she’ll have to get over that because Lotus isn’t going anywhere.”

“So details begin to emerge,” August says with some satisfaction. “You really are into her.”

“Like you haven’t known that since the day I first saw her in that hospital room.”

“True.” August’s grin is wide and teasing. “Bruh, she walked in and you were shook.”

I smile despite the ache in my chest. Shook? Over Lotus?

I still am.





34





Lotus





“You can do it!”

My throat is raw, but I force the words out one more time, praying that something will end my cousin’s agony soon.

“I can’t,” Iris say, tears running from the corners of her eyes. “I can’t, Lo.”

“Yes, you can.” I mop the sweat from her brow and hand her a cup of ice chips. “You will.”

“I want August.”

“I know, honey.” I glace at the clock on the wall. “He’s on his way.”

“I hate basketball,” she says, her bottom lip quivering.

“I been trying to tell you,” I joke. “Took labor for you to hear your girl.”

Her mouth twitches the tiniest bit.

“He’s really almost here?” she asks again for the one hundredth time.