Page 14 of The Wrong Move

I shake my head. “She has more of Dad in her than I realized. Sorry you have to suffer her outbursts.”

“It’s fine.”

“No. She’s gotten out of hand. She came at me with what everyone in the office is saying, and I couldn’t give two fucks about their opinion. She wouldn’t come down as hard on you if she didn’t consider you family.”

Keeping my eyes on the road, I sense him staring at me.

“Lottie doesn’t treat me like a brother.”

I laugh. “I assure you, the newLottieis testing all of us. If she hadn’t known you for seven years, she wouldn’t be acting like such a bitch.”

“She’s just doing her job. I can handle her wrath.”

“That’s big of you. If she gets out of handmanagingyou, I can tell her to back off.”

Brandon remains quiet for a moment, then says, “Hey, how did the coffee date go?”

I shrug. “Shorter than I anticipated. It’s going to take a while to get to know each other again.”

“She’s not into you.” He laughs and jabs my ribs.

“She is. She’s just forgotten how charming I can be.”

“Gonna bring out the big guns?”

I laugh at him. “We’ll see.”

After parking the car in the secure parking lot, we stride into the arena like it’s our second home—familiar and excited to be here. We take the underground tunnel, avoiding the office suites, to the changing room. LA Sharks memorabilia lines thewalls. Famous names on jerseys hang high on parade, reminding everyone of the pride we have to play for the team.

My cubicle displays the number nineteen. It was also my number in college, and everything about it is lucky for me.

Brandon sits in his cubicle and pulls on his training top. Minutes later, we are on the court, just the two of us, surrounded by stands of empty seats.

We warm up in silence.

Heavy breathing fills the quiet arena, yet I can visualize the fans standing and screaming our names. The memory of winning spurs me on. We shoot, play one-on-one, and shoot some more. Before we call it a day, we hit the line for some foul shots. Brandon rebounds for me.

I make fifty shots, then we switch. He makes the first shot.

“What did you do last night?” I ask, throwing the ball back to him.

He shrugs, bounces the ball three times, then takes his shot.

Swish.

I throw it back.

“Stayed in and watched some footy.” He pauses. “AFL. Aussie footy.”

“It’s not football, man.” I grin at him. “How’s your team doing?”

“In the top four. Grand final is some weeks away.”

“I should go to a game with you sometime.”

“Mate, you’d love it. When I went home for a month, I got to some games. Next time, during our offseason, come with me. This time of year gets intense, and I love being here, but… I’m also pissed to be missing Mum’s sixtieth birthday.”

“You’re not going?”

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