Page 121 of The Right Move

“Jesus,” Dom huffs, running by. “You get laid or something? You just hit a triple-double for the second game in a row.”

I laugh, turning around to play some defense, wondering just how accurate that accusation is. I’m relaxed, that’s for goddamn sure.

Coach stands from the bench, edging towards the court and I know the second there’s a dead ball, he’s subbing me out.

“On your left!” Dom shouts and I tighten my defense on Memphis’s point guard.

I get so close to him that when their center tries to set a screen on me, I’m able to slip around his giant body, keeping me one step ahead of my opponent. Their big man rolls off his useless screen, and Dom is quick enough to get in front of him, knocking the ball and disrupting the pass.

I take off the second Dom gets his hand on the ball. Ethan picks it off, and just like that, we’re in transition with a clear lane from me to the hoop. Memphis’s point guard is hot on my trail, but Ethan passes the ball out ahead of me, giving me space to control it and get to the basket.

A quick glance over my shoulder confirms how close he is, so I give myself one dribble before I’m off my feet and putting the ball through the hoop in a self-assured dunk. Nothing too flashy, we are up by twenty-one after all, but just enough to snuff any hope of closing the gap on our lead.

As soon as my fingers grip the rim, I’m coming right back down. Sure, these fans paid for a show, but there’s a fine line between confidently putting the ball away and being a dick to a team now down by twenty-three.

I don’t see it happen.

I don’t see him coming because why would I expect another player not to slow down after I’ve already scored an easy bucket?

Memphis’s point guard barrels underneath me as I’m coming down, swiping my legs, and flipping me in the air. I watch myself falling headfirst into the hardwood, but I keep turning, sheets of color zipping past me, as I hope to God my body finds the right side up.

Somehow, the balls of my feet and my toes hit the ground first. The unprepared smack to the hardwood shoots a burst of sharp pain through my right knee. There’s an unmistakable pain in the joint and the immediate knowledge of what happened provides a deafening ring in my ears, even over the rowdy crowd.

My body is thrust forward, falling to the ground as I grab my knee, the pain shooting through me, my joint instantly throbbing.

And as I see the team doctor sift through a few rows of seats, running towards me, I know in that moment, I’m entirely fucked.

25

INDY

Rolling my suitcase through our private terminal at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport, I offer a wave to the office staff, ready to get this overnight trip to Columbus under way.

“Hi, Margie.” I lean over the front desk. “I need to get to the plane.” I show her my badge as if she doesn’t know who I am.

“The pilots are out there already.” She clicks the button to unlock the door that leads to the tarmac. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you! Have a great week.”

Taking my suitcase and flight bag, I head outside.

“Oh, Indy!” I hear behind me. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was going to call you.”

Yvonne, the one-woman show that is our HR department, races out of her office to meet me.

“I have some good news,” she says quietly, pulling me away from anyone else who could hear. “Our insurance package was adjusted at the beginning of the year and now they cover—”

“Fertility treatments? Are you serious? How much of it is covered?”

“One-hundred percent.”

“Are you kidding me?”

With a smile tugging on her lips, she shakes her head to tell me no, she’s not kidding in the slightest. “Amazing news, right?”

I bend down and swoop her into a hug. I barely know this woman, only through passing hellos in the hallway, but she’s delivering the best news I’ve received in a long time.

“Oh my God,” I exhale in relief, pulling back to look her in the eye and make sure she’s not lying to me.

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