Then he’d gone quiet for a second before saying, real soft, “I’m proud of you, Carter.”
That one hit harder than I’d expected.
He’d added, “If you ever come across a kid with even half your potential who needs a ride to college, you call me. I’ll find them a spot on my team.”
At that point, I’d had to hang up before he heard the emotion in my voice.
I looked out at the court, where Daneel was showing Rey how to trap a pass. They were both grinning, sweaty and sunburnt, but happy. Kids who didn’t have anyone else looking out for them right now.
Yeah. I thought I knew what I was supposed to do next.
The sun sank lower, casting long shadows across the rec center court. The temperature finally dipped fromoventotoaster, and most of the kids sprawled out on their backs in the grass beside the court, guzzling water and arguing about whose team had won.
I crouched beside Daneel, who was kicking at the asphalt like he wanted to fight it. His cheeks were blotchy, frustration written all over him.
“What’s goin’ on?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“I suck at this,” he muttered. “Rey made me look stupid.”
I nudged his shoulder with mine. “You didn’t look stupid. You looked like a kid who hasn’t practiced enough yet. That’s fixable.”
He glared up at me, all defiance and fear in one scrunched-up face. “What if I never get it?”
I leaned back on my heels. “You will. I used to trip over my own feet all the time.”
Daneel blinked. “No, you didn’t.”
“I did,” I said. “Once, I fell on my ass so hard during tryouts that someone called me Bambi for a week. You know what I did?”
He lifted one eyebrow.
“I kept showing up. Kept playing. Until I was the one making the plays. You’ve got something in you, Daneel. You just gotta decide it’s worth building.”
That got me a half-smile. “Bambi, huh?”
“Shut up.”
He snorted. “Thanks, Coach D.”
I ruffled his hair with a fond smile. “Don’t make me regret that.”
I headed back to the bench, heart warmed in that quiet, grown-up way that still surprised me. It wasn’t the adrenaline of scoring a goal or winning a game anymore. It was deeper than that, fuller. I was building something that mattered.
I sat down and grabbed my phone to check the time, and found a new text from Tru.
TRU:
Why do I miss your dumb face more when I’m surrounded by people?
Is this codependency or just True Love
I snorted out loud. God, I missed him.
There’s a difference between wanting someone and choosing them. Every single day, I choose him.
It’s the curse of being obsessed with me.
Don’t worry, it’s mutual.
