Coach folds his arms across his chest, lifting a brow. “You think I liked every guy I played with? No. But I learned to put aside my feelings when I was on the court. Next time Hilton tries to rile you up, don’t react. Remain professional.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“You are one of the best players this team—hell, the NBA—has seen in decades. Don’t throw it all away over some stupid feud,” he says, his voice softening. “Focus on the big picture. Focus on winning a championship for our team.”
My chest tightens. Coach may be tough, but he has shown more appreciation for my hard work over the last few months than my father ever did during my twenty-two years of life.
“I won’t let you down, Coach,” I reply.
“I’m going to have a talk with him to make sure he doesn’t press charges. Don’t let this happen again. I don’t want you ruining your career before it even starts.”
“Yes, Coach.” I nod.
“I found you!” I yank the blanket off of Isaiah and he squeals with laughter. We’re playing hide-and-go-seek while Santiago uses the bathroom and Elijah cooks in the kitchen.
Once a month, Elijah tries to host something at his place.Today he’s making fried fish and gumbo—a recipe that was passed down from his grandmother, who grew up in Louisiana. Andrés has something going on with Katie’s family, so he couldn’t make it.
With everything going on with Annalise, and the fiasco with Lucas, hanging out with my boys is exactly what I need.
“I’m better at this game than you, Uncle Maddox. You took forever to find me.” Isaiah flashes me a toothy grin.
I found him a minute after the game started, but he doesn’t have to know that. “You sure are, kid. It’s not easy for me to hide with how tall I am,” I say, ruffling his hair.
“Food’s ready,” Elijah calls out as he sets the food down on his large kitchen island.
“Can we play again?” Isaiah asks.
“After we finish eating.” I smile and take his hand, leading him to the kitchen.
I lift Isaiah onto the stool and settle next to him. Elijah’s eyes are on me as I take a bite of the gumbo. “Do you have to do that every time?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“Just wanna know if it’s good.” He shrugs and plops down on the stool next to me.
“Yes, it’s delicious. Bless Grandma Callahan for coming up with this recipe.”
Elijah’s mouth tilts into a smile. “Not everyone can follow a recipe and make it good.”
Santiago comes out of the bathroom cackling while staring at his phone. “Elijah, who is Riley and what did you do to her?”
Elijah arches a brow. “A cheerleader I hooked up with. Why?”
“She just tweeted:Elijah Callahan’s dick is so small you need a microscope to see it.It already has over ten thousand re-shares.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. I knew something like this would happen.
Elijah hops off the stool, plucking the phone out of Santiago’s hands. “Let me see this shit.” He presses his lips together as he frantically scrolls through the comments.
Santiago walks over to Isaiah and plants a kiss on top of his head. “Is the food good, mijo?”
“Yeah! Can we play hide-and-go-seek later? Uncle Maddox lost.” Isaiah lets out a little giggle. “I think you will lose too, Papi.”
“Geez, I think we need to stop hanging around you, Elijah. Your big ego is rubbing off on my son.”
“Based on Riley’s tweet, I guess that saying is true. Men with big egos have small…” I trail off.
Elijah sets down the phone, sliding it to Santiago. “Please. Lots of women can confirm that what she said isn’t true—your sister included.” He winks and stuffs his mouth with food.
“Shut the fuck up.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Asami wouldn’t want you even if you were the last man on earth. She can’t stand you. That’s why she doesn’t want to invite you to her wedding.”
