I had to admit, I wasn’t hating it. The challenge, the movement—it was a grueling reminder of how much I enjoyed the sport, no matter the pain. I felt more ready to go on the road than I had in months. My wrist hadn’t flared up again since the party, but I’d made sure not to overwork it, making its care part of my cooldown in the evenings when we were finally done for the day.
“Alright, it’s Chloe’s serve, remember to ke—” Calvin began to recap, but cut himself off, his gaze snapping to the entrance of the court. “Dad?”
“Hi, everyone.” I turned, finding an older man dressed in a polo and slacks, a woman next to him head to toe in white and large Chanel glasses. “We thought we would stop in, see how everything is going.”
Chloe froze mid-motion. “Oh, Dad, Mom. Hi.”
“Good to see you, darlin’.” Her father, tall and casually imposing, grinned as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling Chloe in close. He turned to Calvin. “How’s it going with the girls?”
“It’s going well,” Calvin said, his tone clipped. “But if you don’t mind, we’re in the middle of—”
“Inés.” Chloe’s father cut him off, stepping forward to address me. “It’s good to meet you. I’m Samson. This is my wife, Cathy.”
“You too, sir,” I replied, trying to be as polite as possible. His gaze was unflinching as his hand shook mine, almost assessing.
“I gotta say”—his voice dropped to a skeptical tone—“when Calvin called me up, saying you were the one to help us with our Chloe, I wasn’t sure.”
I cringed slightly, remembering the phone call, but refused to let him see any weakness. Somehow, it felt like having my guard up was a good idea. “I heard.”
“I’m excited to see where this can go.Anythingour girl needs to get better, we will make it happen.”
I wasn’t sure how to take that, whatexactlyhe meant byanything.But before I could formulate a response, Chloe cut in.
“Dad,” she said, her tone firm. “Was it you who was supposed to email us our travel itinerary?”
“No, that was your agent,” he said, looking back at me. “Selena?”
“Selene,” Chloe corrected.
“That’s the one,” he chuckled. “She was a very particular character. Made some big demands.”
My brows furrowed at the insinuation—to be honest, the rudeness.
“How’s training going, anyway?” Chloe’s mother chimed in, her voice softer but no less direct as she stepped up beside her husband. “I hope Calvin isn’t working you too hard.”
“No, he’s been good,” Chloe answered quickly. “It’s a challenge, but it’s all worthwhile.”
“Are you still keeping up—” her mom started.
“Yes, everything is fine,” Chloe snipped. I looked at her, finding her shoulders pulled back, her demeanor changed. Gone was the determined competitor I’d been playing against mere moments ago; now I just saw an uneasy girl. Somebody who looked trapped.
Calvin clapped his hands loudly. “Hey, why don’t you two set up on the sidelines, and we can keep going with training?”
Chloe didn’t say anything else, heading to her side of the net. I reset my position, hating that we had an audience.
Her parents followed Calvin to the sidelines, their attention fixed on us. Her dad, in particular, seemed to be assessing, as if I’d walked into a test.
Chloe stood at the baseline, bouncing the ball against the court. Her movements were deliberate, almost aggressive, and I could sense the tension radiating off her strong shoulders. Whatever lingering frustrations she had with her parents’ arrival, she was channeling them into this serve.
I readied myself, shifting my weight from foot to foot as I waited expectantly for her first move. Chloe’s gaze locked on me briefly, aflicker of something sharp and challenging in her eyes.That look shouldn’t be so hot.
I gripped my racket a little tighter, trying to refocus. If she wanted to vent, then fine. I was ready for her, the challenge more exciting than it should have been.
She tossed the ball high, the motion fluid and commanding, and then smashed it down with precision. The serve rocketed over the net, slicing wide into the corner. I darted to my right, and my shot flew right back to her. Chloe stepped into a forehand that sent the ball back down the line.
Bring it on.
We fought on court, every movement of her body fluid, second nature. The speed in her run, the strength behind every return that threatened to knock me off my feet had me impressed, fighting to match her shot for shot.
