Page 111 of Clean Point

He nodded, barely looking at me before carrying on. We crawled back, claiming another point as ours, but I could see Nico slowing down. I wasn’t much better. Wilson and Carter were tough, making us fight for every point.

Wilson finally secured the second set with a wide kick serve to Nico’s forehand; taking advantage of his hurt knee. He limped, head down, after attempting to reach the ball. My heart sank. It would come down to a final third set.

We were allowed a short break to refresh and hydrate. It was all I could do to not collapse onto our bench. My legs were tired after so many hours on court. It had been two long weeks. I downed almost an entire bottle of cool water, the ball boys quickly replacing it while handing out a fresh towel that I gladly accepted.

‘This is going to shit,’ Nico stated plainly as he sat down on the bench, a towel draped over his head. ‘We made that second set too easy for them.’

I shook my head, not willing to accept defeat yet. My fingers pressed into the plastic of the bottle, crushing it with frustration. ‘We did not come all this way to give up now.’

Nico finished off his own bottle of water. ‘I agree. What are we going to do about it?’

‘They are weakest with cross-court shots,’ I noted. I looked to the other bench. Carter and Wilson were likely having a similar discussion. ‘I think we need to put more pressure on the second serve, too. Get aggressive with it. Force the play to be faster. It might gain us some momentum.’

‘That will also tire us out.’

‘Good thing there’s only one set left,’ I said before taking in his posture. He had his bad leg outstretched, a cold water bottle held to it. ‘How’s the knee holding up?’

‘I’m fine,’ he said through gritted teeth, jaw clenched with frustration.

I paused for a moment, keeping my voice soft as I pressed again. We had no chance of winning if he couldn’t be open with me. ‘Tell me the truth.’

‘I hurt it halfway through the set. It’s getting … awkward to run on.’

My lips pressed firmly together, anxiety rising. I couldn’t lose him mid-match because of too aggressive tactics. It could put the entire game at risk, especially if we had to stop. There was no second chance here.

‘Okay,’ I said with a nod. ‘You take the shots that come your way, but leave the rest to me.’

He shook his head, frustration etched on his face. ‘Scottie, I can do it.’

A quick glance across told me our competitors were almost ready to go, and I looked back at Nico.

‘You do what you can,’ I said, trying to calm him. The last thing we needed was him really hurting his knee. We had to make it through this set. We had to win. And if that meant I had to compensate for us, I’d do it. ‘But we can’t wear you out. We need to get through this final set, and win.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asked, eyes set on me. I held my breath, looking out onto the vast court. It was intimidating, the history here. But to be a part of it with him by my side, could anything be better?

I smiled reassuringly at him. ‘I’m sure.’

He looked resistant, the strong line of his jaw setting, but I pushed. ‘Let me do this for us. Isn’t this what Jon said when we first got together? Strategy is what you’re best at. I was to compensate with my bountiful youth and original knee.’

‘You know, one of these days those old man jokes will have to go into retirement, katsarída.’

‘Too bad today isn’t that day.’ I smiled, watching his own lips curve as his attention dipped to his feet, the racket nervously spinning in his hands. ‘So? What’s the plan? How do we take them down?’

It took him a moment, the time on our break running out as he began to fill me in, and when he did, I was almost certain it would work … as long as I could pull it off. It was time to show them who we were, or go home empty-handed.

I took his hand in mine and squeezed it tightly. Just once was enough.

‘I love you.’ His words pulled my heart into a vice tight grip, squeezing and warming inside. ‘And I can’t wait to watch you win this for us.’

We stood, taking up our positions in the court. I took the serve, feeling the fuzz of the ball in my hand, inspecting the green surface, before looking ahead to my partner, finding his attention on me, his brows pressed together in question.

I kept my eyes on him, a mask of confidence falling into place.

‘Let’s do this,’ I mouthed his way, watching as he mirrored my assurance back at me. A nod of his head indicated he was ready for this fight.

The arena turned silent as I rhythmically bounced the small green ball against the grass, counting each bounce.

One. Two. Three. Just like I’d always done.

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