Page 27 of Beg Me

NINE

Markie

The ball cracks off Tally’s paddle, sailing toward the center of the court. I race to the net, ready to dink it to the opposite corner, just out of her reach. Anticipating my plan, because I exploit this weakness every time we play, she sprints forward.

My heart pounds as I stretch for the ball. But just before it reaches the net, it drops just enough to catch the top and dies on her side.

“Boom!” I say, sucking in a lungful of air.

“Damn you.” She stops, shoulders falling with a sigh that starts in her toes. “How do you get so lucky?”

I laugh. “There’s no such thing as luck, baby. It’s all skill.”

“And how, exactly, did your skill make the ball hit the net? Do you have some forcefield I don’t know about?”

If so, I wish it’d repel losers that easily.

We touch paddles midcourt and head toward the bench.

Tally Thatcher and I met at a summer camp in seventh grade. She and I had a lot in common and became camp besties right away. We were thrilled to be assigned to the same bunk and spent night after night sharing secrets and talking about our crushes—namely a guy named Jayden from the boys’ camp on the other side of the lake.

One afternoon, instead of going to my arts-and-crafts group, I accompanied her to the pickleball court. She stuck a paddle in my hand and the rest, as they say, is history. We played every day. We broke curfew by trying to get in a few more shots. By the end of camp, we created our own little tournament and decimated every team brave enough to go against us.

She’s pickleball royalty in her hometown. And, up until four years ago, when they made our tourney co-ed, she was often my partner.

“This was so much fun,” she says, packing away her things. “I’m so busy at work these days that I hardly get to play, let alone play with someone good.”

I shove my things in my bag. “I play all the time, but yeah, the talent pool is shallow here, too. I had to find a guy from Colfax County to be my partner for the Sugar Days Festival.”

“Is he good?”

“Good enough.” I sling my bag over my shoulder, wiping my brow with the back of my hand, and we head toward the parking lot. “How’s work going?”

The breeze is warm despite the slightly lower temperature this evening. Clouds all but block most of the sun’s rays from scalding our skin. The slight grayish tint to some of them hints at a thunderstorm, but I should be home before bad weather hits.

“Work is so busy,” she says. “Sometimes I look around at my big corner office with my fancy name plate on the door and wonder how, exactly, I became a marketing executive for a pro hockey team.” She laughs. “But here I am, and I love it.”

A smile appears before I realize it.

Tally deserves everything amazing that’s come her way, and God knows she’s worked for it. I love seeing good things happen to good people. It’s the same way I felt when Audrey set her wedding date, and when my sister finally admitted that she loved Hartley.

My friends all seem to be moving into new phases of life, which feels inevitable as we inch toward, and hit, our thirties. It feels like a natural progression to go from being wild and free in your early twenties to wanting something … more. Something stable. Something you can count on.

Cheers to the ones who find that. Guess I’ll have to drink in their honor.

“It must be so hard to figure out ways to market hot hockey players,” I tease her.

Her laughter grows. “Surprisingly, most of our efforts are geared toward men. Less than forty percent of our fan base are women.”

“And if you’d market more of the hot guy angle, you could probably surpass fifty.”

She opens her back door as I pop my trunk. “True. But getting the league to approve a calendar with half-naked hockey players is a stretch.”

“Might be worth a try. Don’t they like money?” I ask, slinging my gear into the car. “Women spend big when they’re passionate about things. Just a thought.”

“Oh, I’ve had that thought. Trust me.” She reaches in and turns on her ignition. “I’d hug you, but we’re both sweaty as heck.”

I smile at her. “I get it. Now, when is your surgery again? Gallbladder, right?”