Page 67 of Hard to Take

Miles: Thanks Princess. Do I get a pic to console me?

“Hey man, we going out after media?” Rookie’s voice is distant.

I’m ready to go back to my room and call Brooke.

Never used to like having someone sending me messages on the regular, but with her, I’m living for every damned notification.

At the same time, keeping our relationship from my team weighs heavier than ever.

She suggested waiting until we got back to break the news.

But she’s also not the one who has to look her brother in the eye for hours a day.

“Miles?” Rookie appears from nowhere at my shoulder.

I slam the phone facedown on the bench. “What?”

“Whoa. You been testing new coffee recipes? Step away from the espresso machine, my friend.” Rookie goes back to his locker, chuckling.

He’s not wrong that I’m on edge.

Every second we’re on the court together, anytime Jay shouts for me, the lie is burning in my chest, thudding against my ribs.

I flip the phone. There’s an image of Waffles in a tiny purple jersey.

The laugh rumbles out of me without warning.

Brooke: It has even has your number on the back.

Miles: Someone else I’d rather see wearing it.

Brooke: Play your cards right and you might.

Miles: Tonight? After media I’m all yours.

Brooke: You’re cute when you talk to reporters. I might have to start without you.

Miles: I’m counting on it.

Brooke: Got a codeword just for me?

Miles: Houseplant

Brooke: LOL WHAT?

Miles: Yup. I say houseplant and I want you coming on the biggest toy you have.

“We’re going out,” Atlas decides.

I drag my attention away from my phone. “I’m going to pass.” I stretch an arm across my chest. My lats are still complaining from lifting yesterday.

“You can’t pass.” Jay’s voice is aggressive. “Even Clay’s coming. Right?”

We all turn to look at our all-star, a tight-lipped wall of tattoos.

Clay grunts. “Why not?”

Rookie jumps in. “Hell yes. There’s this salsa club my cousin works at, and they can get us a great booth.”

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