Badly.
“You can’t just hit my arm!” Beckett yells in pure outrage as Iris swats him again. “That’s a foul!”
“Babe!” he calls across the gym toward Elena, who’s sitting on the bleachers with the kids. “A foul call—yes?”
“Sorry, didn’t see it!” she calls back brightly.
All the girls on our team burst into giggles.
“Sorry,she didn’t see it,” Iris singsongs, prancing past her brother.
“This is unbelievable,” Beckett mutters, shoving his fingers through his hair. “You all are totally cheating.”
“Yeah, and there have definitely been some moments where you’ve cheated too,” Delaney fires back.
“Have not,” Jaden insists.
“Oh, right?” Anna says loudly. “So, babe, when you were just… what? Running down the court holding the ball—you don’t think that was a travel?”
“I didn’t do that,” he scoffs defensively.
“Oh, you did,” Penny adds, hands on her hips. “And it was absolutely a trip. It just wasn’t called. So,” she says, turning to the group, “let’s agree that both teams have some uncalled fouls.”
“I just think you’re all pissy because we have Miranda,” Ari says proudly.
“Whatever,” Cade sighs dramatically. “Two minutes left. Let’s go.”
The game resumes, and I sink two more threes—clean, effortless, perfect swishes that echo in my blood. The guys groan. The girls cheer. And when the final buzzer wails, the noise erupts into pure chaotic joy.
We won.
We didn’t just win—we demolished them by more than thirty points.
The girls swarm together in a huge huddle, jumping up and down, shrieking and giggling like absolute maniacs. I’m laughing too—until suddenly I’m not.
I swipe my face and feel hot, fresh tears streaking down my cheeks. Across the circle, Anna is already looking at me—her eyes glassy, full of pride and love.
I walk toward her as she walks toward me. When we meet, we crash into a hug, both crying, both clutching the other. Because with one simple game—one ridiculous, chaotic, laughter-filled pickup game—my beautiful boyfriend gave me something I thought was gone forever.
Basketball.
But what he really gave me was joy. A piece of myself I’d buried so deep I thought it was lost.
Now that I remember what it feels like to play—the thrill, the freedom, the excitement.
I know one thing for sure, I’m never giving it up again.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
MILES
Iknew the game was the right choice the moment I saw the smile on Miranda’s face after her very first shot. She radiated happiness—pure, unfiltered joy—and it filled me with so much pride I thought my chest might actually burst.
It’s bittersweet, though. I can’t help but think where she might be today if everything hadn’t happened. If she hadn’t quit basketball at fifteen… there’s no question in my mind she would’ve earned a full-ride scholarship somewhere huge. She could’ve played Division I, maybe coached, maybe even been in the WNBA. She’s that naturally gifted.
But when I mentioned that on the drive home, she shook her head and said she can’t think like that. Can’t live in the land ofwhat if. I get it. Regret is a brutal pill to swallow, and she’s had enough of those for a lifetime.
