Page 26 of Hard to Take

I will be, I decide.

* * *

MILES

“Tapping out?” Clay asks from above me.

“No way.” Sweat rolls down my face, and I press the bar overhead to finish my set.

The new guys work hard. The starters work even harder.

“Hawkins put up thirty-five points for Boston last night.” I sit up and grab a towel.

Clay nods. “Plus ten rebounds and eight assists.”

The fact that our all-star knows the guy’s stats makes me blink. “You don’t take anything for granted, do you?”

“Can’t. That’s the day you lose it.”

I’ve got to ride my championship to bigger and better things.

If the team does well again this year—like conference finals well—it’ll be a welcome boost for my career.

Grams needs a new retirement home. I decided that after the hospital. The ones I’ve called aren’t cheap either, but I won’t have her worry about it for a second. I’ll do whatever it takes, even hire her a full-time support worker, to have her feel cared for. She deserves every ounce of comfort and dignity available.

“Jay’s worried about Boston.”

“Seems like they’re his LA,” Clay responds, referring to the team he spent time with that became his biggest rivals. “You know what’s behind that?”

I twist the towel in my hands, considering. “Hawkins always got under his skin. Far as I know, they never played together. Probably just a beef that started with him talking shit.”

“Dragon will keep you up at night until you slay it.”

“What if you don’t?”

He stretches both arms overhead, miles of black ink snaking across every inch. “Man can only go without sleep for so long before it fucks you up forever.”

I turn that over. “How’s Nova?” I ask, my attention settling on the ring tattooed on his finger.

“She’s got some new pieces she’s working on. Plus a show coming up.” He’s proud of her, and it’s obvious from the way he talks.

“I’m happy for you, man.”

Clay stretches an arm across his chest. “When you find the one, she’s it. You wonder how you spent all the days before you were thinking about her.”

He sounds like a guy who knows what he’s talking about.

Since Brooke moved in, it’s been… interesting.

She’s everywhere. Eating my food, smelling like heaven.

She owns a fascinating volume of clothes, which appear to spill out of her wardrobe and into her room whenever I catch a glimpse inside.

Whether she’s watching TV or drinking a coffee or researching on her computer, it’s with single-minded focus.

When she turns that attention on me, it’s like a drug. Every time we pass each other in a room, it takes all my restraint not to reach out and touch her.

Having her close was supposed to be a way to keep an eye on her, except all can think about is her.

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