Page 71 of Don't Let Go

I grabbed the ball and squeezed it between my hands, feeling its pimply exterior. “I see how it’s going to go down. I was being easy on you because you’re not on a team, but I guess that doesn’t mean you can’t play some serious ball.” I bounced the ball back to her.

Rory missed her next shot. I was silently happy she wasn’t a basketball prodigy. “Check,” she said, bouncing the ball to me.

I caught it and dribbled it with my left hand. “I have a chance now,” I joked.

Rory took her stance and jumped when I tossed the ball. It was barely out of her reach and ran the rim of the basket, but it did fall into the net.

I nodded toward the net. “Looks like we’re even.”

We went back and forth like some kind of dance. Rory got one more letter, and I somehow ended up with two more.

Rory had the ball again. She liked to stick the tip of her tongue out slightly when she stopped dribbling and lined up her shot. She jumped and made it. “Looks like I’m winning,” she said cheerfully, brushing her shoulder against mine.

I shook my head. “How are you this good?”

“My papà. He loved basketball. We always played one on one. I was never good with a team, but I’m amazing on my own,” she said, bouncing the ball to me as we checked it.

“I remember playing until late with my father. My mom would come outside and say the neighbors were calling about all the noise. I still can’t believe they’re both gone.”

Rory held up her hands, calling for a time-out. “I understand. The pain never goes away, but you learn to live with it. It’s no longer a bleeding wound; it becomes a mound of scar tissue,” she said as she tightened her ponytail to keep the wispy hairs from her face.

I licked my lips and wiped the sweat from my brow. “Do you remember the last words you said to your father?”

Rory gave me a sad smile. “I told him help was on the way and to hold on. I told him not to go to sleep and that I loved him. He mumbled something about loving me and being strong, and then he was gone.” She wiped a tear away from her eye before it had the chance to fall.

“You got to say goodbye, at least. I was pissed at my old man the last time I saw him for being late to my game. I yelled at him and blew him off when he offered to take a break from work to eat dinner with me. I told him I was busy, but all I was doingwas going to a shitty party with my teammates and my girl. Next thing I know, I’m on the dancefloor getting a dozen phone calls. I finally answered, thinking my father’s PR coordinator wanted me for some speech or another dinner party, but it was to tell me to get to the hospital. I waited all night and was told by some doctor he was gone. My last words were of hate.” I buried my fingers into my hair, pulling it back from my face. “I should’ve had dinner with him. Maybe he wouldn’t have eaten that fish. Maybe I could’ve—”

Rory put a hand on my shoulder. “Stop. You spiraling isn’t going to bring him back. It won’t do you any good. Believe me. I’ve been there.”

I sniffed, rubbing my nose with the side of my hand. “Okay. Yeah. You’re right. Let’s finish this game.”

“Yes. I need you to detail my car once I win it.” She winked at me as she passed me the ball.

“Oh. You’re not getting my wheels.” I ran past her and dunked.

She made her next shot, a perfect lineup.

I shot the ball again, and it rode the rim. The damn thing fell to the side. Only one letter was left, and then I was toast.

I tossed the ball at her.

She bounced the ball from one hand to another. Her eyes darted between me and her basket. “So, you won that last game against Gilbert?”

I nodded, moving when she moved. I wasn’t going to allow her to get past me again. My Rolls-Royce wasn’t going to belong to her after a silly game of Horse.

“Yes. We creamed them.” I dove for the ball, stealing it, and running down the court toward my hoop.

Rory was on my heels. “The next game is the championships,” I said while trying to plan my next move.

She had stopped in front of me. I jumped up and made my shot. Now we were tied. Whoever made the last shot won.

“Who are you playing?” she asked, eyeing the basketball.

“Lincoln High.” I made my shot and missed.

“Damn.” She stole the ball and ran to her side of the court. She missed her shot. “How does that make you feel?”

I stared at the orange ball, watching it bounce for a moment. “I don’t know. It’ll be strange playing against the team I grew up with. It’s going to be like an out-of-body experience.”

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