Page 77 of Playoff

As I stare down at the beautifully lit up city below, I try to memorize every detail. I’ve taken a bunch of pictures, but nothing will come close to what it looks like in person. How it feels to soar above the buildings and chaotic traffic and throngs of tourists. It’s glorious and ethereal, like floating. Watching. Taking it all in.

I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced anything quite like it—or if I ever will again.

Our fairy tale helicopter ride comes to an end too soon, but I don’t feel disappointment as he slides his hand into mine and we walk toward the exit. I’m eternally grateful I got to experience it. With him. An evening I’ll never forget.

His phone rings, snapping me out of my reverie, and I see him frown as he glances at it.

“Not tonight, Dad. Thanks for playing.” He pushes the button that I assume will send the call to voicemail and sticks the phone back in his pocket.

“What if it’s important?” I ask gently.

“If it’s truly important, my mom or Phoebe would call. And honestly, I’m having too good of a time to let my dad spoil it.”

“Well, thank you,” I say sincerely. “Tonight was absolutely magnificent. I have never, and probably will never again, enjoy a date as much as this one.”

“Challenge accepted,” he says solemnly.

“It’s not meant to be a challenge.” I stop walking and turn to face him, trying to decide how much to say. How vulnerable to make myself. But there’s no holding back. Not anymore. He deserves to know the truth. Both good and bad. “You are the love of my life, Blake. I don’t know if we’re going to make it work considering all the obstacles, but nothing can change the fact that there’s never been anyone else for me. And believe me, I’ve tried.”

His face softens and he puts one of his big, warm hands on the side of my face. “Ditto. I tried so hard to forget you, to pretend that we were just a couple of hormonal teenagers. That adult love has to be different.Better. Something we were missing as kids. But it’s not. Not even close.”

I stare up into pale blue eyes and realize no matter what happens, I’m in this until the end. Whether it’s until the end of the season, just the summer, or the rest of our lives, there’s no way I’m missing out on spending more time with him. If my heart gets broken again, well, I’ll survive. There’s simply no choice.

It’s always been Blake.

And there’s no point fighting it anymore.

TWENTY-FOUR

Blake

The voicemailfrom my father is short and to the point.

It’s an apology but not a sincere one and I listen to it a few times just so I can wrap my head around it.

“…your mother says I owe you an apology, and I guess she’s right. I just always had so much faith in you. Your potential. You’re so damn talented and after all we sacrificed for you, watching you throw it away for beer and pussy broke my heart a little. But you really are playing your ass off now. I’m a big enough man to admit when I’m wrong. Anyway… we’d like to see you. In Vegas. We bought flights and then thought we could drive to L.A. for the next couple of games. Let us know if you can get us tickets. Your mom is really excited about it. Okay, that’s it. Bye now.”

No, “I love you, son.”

No please or thank you or anything else.

Just a half-assed apology and a request for tickets.

Which I have to provide because I know damn well my mom and sister are excited. And I want to see them. I like havingfamily around to celebrate the wins, even when some of them are actually losses. In some ways, it’s even more important when we lose. That support is invaluable.

I have almost no emotional support in Phoenix. My parents have come to a handful of games, but it’s more about them taking a few days to relax in Sedona than seeing me play.

This is different.

I reluctantly arrange for them to get tickets to tonight’s game and then head down to get on the bus to the arena. We’ll be there for the duration, even though the game isn’t for hours, having our pre-game meal as a group, warmups, and whatever rituals we all indulge in.

If I had my way, my pre-game ritual would be having Rowan suck my dick.

A blow job before a game is the best feeling ever.

It relaxes me, makes me feel good, fills me with all the endorphins everyone talks about, and puts me in a decent mindset.

Unfortunately, that’s not in the cards, so I do my best to put it out of my mind.

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