Font Size:
Turn.
Sprint back.
Three.
Swish.
“Vale’s locked in,” another voice says. “Like… locked in locked in.”
No shit.
Because this?
This is the only place that makes sense right now.
Out there—it’s messy.
Here—it’s simple.
You shoot.
You make it.
Or you don’t.
No feelings.
No history.
No five-year ghosts crawling under your skin.
Just the game.
I grab the ball and step to the line.
Bounce.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Shoot.
Swish.
My jaw tightens. The doors open. I don’t look. Don’t need to.
I know that walk. That presence.
Kane.
He doesn’t say anything at first. Just leans against the wall.
Watching. The way everyone else is. But he’s not impressed. He’s assessing. I shoot again.
Miss.
