Page 50 of Long Shot

Babs darted her hand out and pulled at the fabric. “What’s this?”

Mac’s heart sank.The fucking bite mark.

Stumbling, Mac shrugged. “Just some fun over Pride.”

Babs’s eyes narrowed, not buying it. “I told you none of that during the Slams.” But Babs didn’t break eye contact with Mac.

Mac laughed. “Sure, but did you follow any of those rules when you were my age?”

Waving her off, Babs walked away to Mac’s bag. She checked all the water bottles inside. “Well, no. But I was stupid and trying to hide my sexuality so I took what I could get. You can get some whenever you like… in the off season.”

Mac rubbed the back of her neck, biting the inside of her cheek as she thought. It wasn’t really true. Maybe it had been before Taylor and that night in her apartment. Now, Mac was back in the closet again. She had agreed to it. Hell, she was having fun. But it wasn’t as simple as Babs thought.

As if she was reading Mac’s mind, Babs cleared her throat. “How did you say you flew over?”

Mac shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just first class from JFK. Tommy sent a car.”

Silence filled the training room for a moment. Mac was starting to sweat and she hadn’t even walked onto the court yet.

Babs stood up abruptly. “Right, well no more of that. You’re facing a Russian today. They play just as hard as you, except they train in the cold.”

Mac listened closely as Babs laid out her strategy. After weeks of analyzing tapes, they were ready to go after whoever Mac had to face – including Taylor. Luckily, they had been placed on opposite sides of the bracket. They’d only face off if they both made it to the finals.

And if that was the case, Mac would have to find a way to win.

As if she was reading Mac’s mind, Babs patted her on the back. “There’s $2.8 million on the table everyday this week. You win that prize. No matter what.”

Mac nodded as an usher peeked their head into the room. “Miss. Bennett, they’re ready for you.”

Taking a deep breath, Mac slung her racket back onto her shoulder and headed down the hallway. Over her shoulder, she hollered back at Babs. “Tell my mom I love her, please.”

Babs gave a thumbs up just as Mac was turning the corner into the court entrance. From inside, she heard the crowd give a gentle clap to the Mac’s Russian opponent. Mac’s heart raced as she waited to hear her name.

She closed her eyes and tried to find herself. But when she did, all she could picture was Taylor doing the same thing. Her match, on Centre Court, started a little over an hour ago.

“Miss Mackenzie Bennett.” The announcer called Mac to court.

Startled out of her meditation, Mac stumbled forward and into the light. This time, the crowd roared for her. The British seemed to be far more enthused than the French. Mac smiled up at them, laughing as she waved.

She settled on her bench, letting her feet get used to the grass. It would be a slow match, the extra traction would minimize injury. But it also meant the ball would bounce slower. Everything about Mac’s swing would have to be adjusted for a long, grueling game.

The crowd settled as the umpire performed the coin toss.

“Mackenzie Bennett, first serve.” The umpire nodded. Each player shook her hand and headed to their side.

Mac got into position, catching her breath. The warm sun on her neck called her nerves. She met her opponents eyes from across the court.

Bending her knees, Mac lifted the ball into the air and sent it flying with a familiarcrack.

20

Taylor

“Yes!”Taylor pumped her fist.

The ice wrapped around her knees shifted as she stood. But as soon as she did, she fell back down. It had been a few days of matches and her body was starting to feel it. Just earlier that day, Taylor won her own quarterfinals match.

And now, she was watching Mac. Having just scored a point the tiebreak, Mac was nearing another win at Wimbledon.

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