Page 58 of Long Shot

“Point, Miss Singh.”

Rina pumped her fist as she headed to her bench.

Mac let her head fall slightly as she wiped her face with the massive Wimbledon towel. Its signature green and purple decal would have been recognizable anywhere. Closing her eyes, Mac tried to center herself.We’re two warriors. There has to be a weakness I’m missing. Something about my own game.

The pair couldn’t keep up at this rate without burning out. Neither of them would make it to the third set if something didn’t change.

Before Mac could finish her thought, the umpire called them back to the court. They swapped sides. This time Rina prepared her serve.

It was a decent serve, similar to Mac’s. But after losing the first point, Mac shook her head.Come on. Think of something.

She looked up to the crowd as she thought, catching a glimpse of the blue sky overhead. As her brown eyes lowered back to the court, Mac’s gaze caught on a familiar face. Trying to suppress the smile that so desperately wanted to come out, Mac peeled her eyes away from Taylor. She sat in the fourth row, sunglasses covering her eyes as she watched the match.

Mac’s heart raced as she tried to recenter. Mac adjusted her baseball cap.

Then it hit her as her eyes darted back up to Taylor.

I need to play like Taylor. Like I’ve got all the time in the world.It was perfect, the only thing that could defeat a warrior was someone uninterested in war.

Mac got into position, squatting low and letting air fill her lungs. When Rina’s serve came toward her, Mac loosened her body. She sent it back with some power but let it fall short of Rina’s prediction. Taking the point, Mac smiled.

She kept it up for the rest of the set, easily winning it. Rina was never sure when Mac would drop her speed or exactly where she would place the ball in the court.

As they headed into the tiebreak set, Mac could see Rina trying to strategize a new method. But without her coach's guidance, the young player was stumped. Mac swiftly made her way to 9 of the required 10 points to win the tie break set.

Victory was so close she could almost taste the $2.8 million.

Mac readied her final serve.I’m certainly not going to win Wimbledon on a weak serve.With her full force, much of which she still had despite three sets in July heat, Mac careened the ball across the court.

140 miles per hour. Let’s fucking go.Rina shrieked as she sent the ball back. She tried to hide the shock on her face, but Mac could tell that she was stunned. 140 was no joke this late in the tournament.

Mac smacked it back to Rina, leaving it somewhere reachable. Sprinting, Rina hit it back. She was gasping for air as sweat dripped down her entire body.

With each step, Mac’s own sweat fell onto the grass. They continued like that for a moment, each of them fighting for their lives.

But eventually, Mac caught Rina in no man’s land, tossing a ball slightly past her near the baseline. Rina leapt over it, desperately trying to hit the ball between her legs as she ran. But when she sent the ball flying, it only managed to snag the net.

“Match, Miss Bennett.” The umpire announced.

Mac’s heart caught in her throat. She gasped. “Holy shit.” The crowd screamed so loud that no one could hear her cursing. Now it felt impossible to keep the tears in. A few slipped out as Mac keeled over, placing her hands on her weak knees.

From the corner of her eye, Mac watched Rina shake her head.

Rina smiled through her exhaustion. “Well done, truly.”

Mac got herself together, rushed the court and shook Rina’s hand. “Thank you, you too.”

After Rina shook the umpire's hand, she started her post-match interview. She thanks her family, coaches, and the audience.

As she spoke, Mac guzzled water. She tried to clean herself up as the court was transformed into a presentation area in a matter of seconds. Grand Slams didn’t waste time giving out their trophies.

Mac waved to her mom and Babs who were still too stunned to speak in the stands. Next to them, Mac saw Tommy, beamingwith joy. She had earned herself a fat check, and with the secret she was keeping for Mac – every cent felt worth it.

But there was one other person Mac needed to see. She looked back to where Taylor had been sitting. Still there, Taylor smiled down at her. Her blonde hair was in a neat bun and she wore a simple, pastel dress.

As she met Mac’s gaze, Taylor mouthed her praise to Mac, “All you. Always.”

Mac’s hand clasped her chest as the anchor made her way over to Mac.

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