“My mother was intimidated by and in awe of your mother. She looked up to her and would have said anything to please her. She was impressed by everything about your mother—her name in our community, the way she dressed and wore her hair, the way she spoke, and how everyone admired her!”
“I’m sorry. That’s not my damn fault. But I don’t regret the shit that we did, because we weren’t ready. We were fucking kids ourselves, Zoe. You were failing almost every subject in school and lazy as shit. How the hell do you think you were ready to be a mother? Huh?”
She rolled her tear-laden eyes. “Well, you don’t have to regret it, but I do. I regret that I let your mother force me into something I knew that I didn’t want. Because guess what, Ashton? I cannot have kids now.”
“What?” My stomach dropped as she wiped her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. “What are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said. I cannot have kids, and I learned that four years ago.”
Right around the time that she started fucking around on me all the time. “What? How do you know that?”
“I kept begging you to give me a baby back then, and you kept telling me that if it was meant to happen, it would. You said that we weren’t trying to prevent it, so it was only a matter of time. After seven months, I went to see my doctor. They ran tests on me and found out that I was infertile because of some scar tissue left behind during the procedure.”
“You never told me, Zoe.” My voice was hollow, and my heart was hurting for her and me.
“Because I didn’t want you to look at me as less than a woman. I didn’t feel like a woman around you. I felt less than anything.” She sobbed. Her voice was broken.
I reached for her to comfort her, but she backed away and swatted at my hands. “Don’t touch me. You and your mother took what was precious to me. You both robbed me, so I found men who made me feel like a woman. I gave what was left of me to a few men I’ve met through the years and some who were around you: your former assistant coach, Coach Steed; your former teammates, David Arcel and Mike Brohanan; and now Alex as a final fuck you.”
My heart shattered to the floor. She had not only fucked Alex but also two teammates I had been real cool with, and a coach I hadn’t trusted with my eyes pinned on him. But the worst part was that something significant had been stolen from both of us, and she had not trusted me with that knowledge. She hadn’t given me the option to find a solution that would work for us.
“We could have made it work, Muffin. When you quit talking about kids and focusing on getting on those shows, I thought you weren’t ready. I could have paid for us to?—”
“Don’t,” she hissed, wiping the tears from her face. “You couldn’t have given me back my dignity. So fuck you and fuck your mother.”
She snatched her purse up off the table and stormed out of my house. I dropped down at the island, shook, confused, and hurting.
ONE WEEK LATER
I ran through the defense,moving smoothly around Cross as I drew closer to the basket. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. We only had one opportunity to win this game. This three-game losing streak had to be broken, and losing to the Cobras wasn’t an option. I arched my wrist and aimed for the basket.
“Less than four seconds to go . . . and Santoro for the three.”
The ball went flying through the air, and all I had was a prayer. I watched as the ball rolled around the hoop and fell off the other side.
“Ohhh, that was an ugly shot, Curt.”
My teammate, Neal Falls, tried to tilt it back in, but it fell back just as the buzzer sounded.
Another loss that we couldn’t afford. My shoulders slumped, because I knew my performance had been shitty tonight. My head hadn’t been in the game all night, even after Coach reamed our asses during halftime. All I could think about was the bomb that Muffin dropped on me. My world hadn’t been right since.
Communication would have solved all our problems. I knew that I needed to discuss it with my mother, but I wasn’t in the right space at that time. I hated that shit that happened to Muffin though. We could have sued the doctor, we could have addressed the issue to see what her medical options were, or any number of things.
The other problem I had was Chanel. I normally didn’t pay attention to the reporters, but my eyes kept straying to where she was on the sidelines. My attention was torn between the game and her all night. She was just a reporter doing her job, like I should have been doing mine.
I was juggling feelings of guilt about what happened to Muffin, with a growing attraction to Chanel. I knew that I shouldn’t have been feeling her like that, but I was, and there wasn’t a damn thing that I could do about it. The last thing that I wanted was her in my face after playing that shitty game, knowing how I felt. But she beelined in my direction.
“Santoro, your performance has been off tonight. Why were you forcing bad shots?”
Wiping the sweat from my eyes, I glared at her but then dropped my gaze when the cameraman homed in on me. “I didn’t really feel like I was forcing bad shots. I gave it my best, and it just wasn’t good enough tonight.”
“Why weren’t you getting your teammates involved?”
“I saw a couple of openings that I was comfortable with, and I thought I was close enough to make the shots. My aim was off, and I miscalculated a few times.”
“It seemed like more than a few times. Your game was off all night. We could tell that your head wasn’t in the game. Did that have anything to do with the opponent? You all have a history with the Cobras.”
“It had nothing to do with the Cobras. Sometimes, we just have a bad night, and this was mine, a’ight?”
