Page 95 of The Wrong Move

“Basically, to stop being a selfish asshole.” I grin at Penny.

“Right. But I think all Hendricks have the selfish asshole gene.”

Franklin perks up. “Excuse me?”

“Not in a bad way. It’s why you’re all determined and successful. It takes a special person to succeed, and you need to be a little selfish to achieve the highest of goals.”

“What she is saying…” Franklin says casually, “… is we have what it takes, so go get the job done.”

25

BYRON

It’sthe last home game before Christmas. I’m not looking forward to being on the road when Giana returns home.

In the VIP section, Penny’s father is on one side of Franklin and Penny is on the other. Her mother is home with Summer. Franklin meets my gaze and gives me the nod. I don’t miss the seriousness in his eyes on getting the win. One step closer to making finals. Yet my thoughts shift to his life and his happiness of being with Penny and part of her family. Mom and Dad sit in the row behind him, clapping and chanting with the fans. Charlotte sits beside Jobe. She isn’t looking at me. Her focus is on the guy who I haven’t spoken to in weeks except for what I need to say at training to keep Coach satisfied.

This season, Giana has been here for our winning home games. When she was away, we lost. I’m not predicting a loss tonight, as I have my eye on the prize of a championship ring, and I’m damn focused on making the top four. But before those winning games, I ran up to her in the stands and kissed her,and she whisperedGood luck, and it was like she was my lucky charm. Giana is more than luck before a game. Her presence gives me confidence and more drive to win. I stare at the empty seat where she sits beside Charlotte.

Jye calls my name right before the ball hurls toward me. “C’mon, man. Do your thing.”

Spinning the ball on the floor until it bounces back into my hands, I drive toward the basket. It takes two bounces to get me into the paint, and I dunk. The fans cheer. It may be the warm-up, but they love to see our skills. And after the extra plyometric training, my leap has improved. They’ll see more of that in the game.

Coach calls us in. Brandon and I pull off our warm-up clothes.

I jump up and down. Side to side. High knees for five seconds.

I am ready.

“If Byron is smothered or they double-team him, then BJ, you take the point.”

The fuck?Brandon isn’t a point guard. He now plays a two or three position. What happened to Dwayne? He’s my backup guard. I catch the tic in Dwayne’s jaw. I flick my fingers in and out. Clench my fist, unclench. Flick, flick, flick. I roll my neck and stare at the scoreboard, visualizing the win.

“Let’s do this,” I yell.

“Hands in.” Coach is beside me.

“Give ’em hell, Byron.”

“Yeah!” I bounce up and down. “We got this. We got this.”

Jye wins the tap, and Brandon leaps and grabs it. Before his feet land, he tosses the ball my way as I have sprinted toward the ring. I jump, catch it, two fast bounces, and I slam the ball into the basket.

The crowd roars with excitement.

“Six seconds, baby,” I call out. Six seconds to get our first goal. I point to Jye, then to Brandon, and nod, clapping my hands. It’s their goal as much as mine.

After that, the game remains tight.

By the end of the quarter, we lead by three.

At halftime, we are up by four.

Coach roasts us in the locker room.

I wipe my face with a towel. Something is off. Fatigue is setting in far too quickly. I shift my mindset and listen to what Coach tells us.

I got this. This is a win.

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