Clay pivots and release the ball…
Two.
…to Rookie, slicing through the middle of the paint.
The entire arena is on its feet.We all watch, holding our breath.
With one second remaining, he rises up in front of the basket.
Every guy on the court has both eyes on the ball.Denver watches with hope, LA with horror at the deception.
Brooke grabs my hand, squeezing hard enough it hurts.
Rookie slams the ball home with both hands.
The entire building is deafening.
“They did it!”I shout.
“We did it!”Brooke hollers.
Conference champions.
We run down toward the floor to meet the guys.Even with our VIP passes, it’s a few minutes before we can find our way through the confetti and security.
It helps that Clay spots us and comes to grab my hand, tugging me through the crowd.
I throw my arms in the air and he lifts me up, spinning me around.He’s sweaty and triumphant and I wouldn’t have him any other way.
“How does it feel?”I holler over the crowd.
“Like we fucking won.”When he sets me down, he presses his grinning lips to mine.
“Please tell me your knee is okay,” I murmur after pulling back an inch.
“Nothing a few days of rest won’t fix,” he promises.
“What happened to your championship ring from LA?The box was empty.”
“I sold it to cover Coach’s ceremony and chip in for his retirement.Figured it was kind of poetic.”
I’m laughing and crying at once.“You did say it was only ever good for pawning or smashing drywall.”
“You sold your ring?”Jay demands.
“Your championship ring?”Rookie shrieks, appalled.
Clay jerks his chin at his friends, sweat shining on his forehead.
Miles descends, wrapping a sweaty arm around each of them.
“Let’s get the man a new one.”
32
CLAY
Two months later
