Page 70 of Your Secret to Keep

“Wait, can you get into the arena whenever you want?” Lia asks as I hold the door open after punching in my code.

I can’t help but smirk at the awe in her voice. “Maybe? I’ve never tried when really no one is here… seems like someone is always doing something.”

“What are we doing here?”

I so badly want to reach for her hand and walk with her through the halls, but I can’t risk it. I usually always see someone from the coaching or training staff on random days when I come in to work out. Instead, we walk side by side until we end up in front of a set of doors I know are unlocked—the ones I called about. It always helps to have some inside connections, like random equipment managers who don’t mind helping you out on an off day.

“Are you ready?” I ask, catching her eyes bright and looking around. She has no idea where we are.

“Maybe? I don’t even know what we we’re doing.” Lia’s voice is hushed, like she’s trying not to get caught.

I swing open the door, turn the lights on, and step in. “This is where all the extra teamwear goes after each seasonal drop. There’s stuff from the last few years, some that’s never been sold. You, my little Jags fiend, are welcome to take anything you need. I also anticipate there will be lots ofitems in your size because you’re not exactly a big and bulky NBA player or coach.”

Her jaw drops. “This isn’t real,” she insists. “Did you have to pay to get me in here? There’s no way all of this is up for grabs.”

“I promise it is. Only thing I did was call in a favor to get this room unlocked. Really, anyone from the organization can come in here and take what’s left. We’re not breaking the rules,” I reassure her.

Lia’s mouth hangs open as her eyes move from shelf to shelf, bouncing from sweatshirts to tank tops to shoes. She moves closer, checking sizes and holding items up to herself. She turns back to me, and I can see the exhaustion lining her face as she says, “Thank you. For this. For all of it.”

“Can’t think of anyone more worth it,” I reply.

And it’s the truth.

“Is this what you feel like when you watch game film? Because this makes me want to throw up, cover my face, then run far away from all of it.” Lia puts her hands in front of her eyes, dramatically peeking at me through them.

We’re on the couch, Rocky snoring between us, and watching the game back. “At first, when I got drafted to the NBA. Then it felt like everyone was keeping track of every single mistake I made; like the fans thought I was a bust. Lia, this is pretty fucking incredible,” I gush. “You sound like you belong in that booth.”

“Belong? Bold statement.” Lia scoffs and brushes away my compliment.

“For a bold woman who fucking deserves it. I wanted to ask—how was Blake?”

She stops and gives me a long look. “He was amazing. I had to keep telling myself I wasn’t sitting next to an all-time great. But he gave me pointers during commercial breaks and did nothing but encourage me.”

My chest warms at the thought. I’ve only met him once in passing but I’m glad he was so supportive. Lia turns back to the TV, watching as the first quarter wraps ends.

“My voice was quiet and a bit shaky at the beginning. Plus, I kept bringing up random stats from the front of my brain. It didn’t necessarily flow.” She rattles off the things she doesn’t like about watching or listening to herself.

I reach a hand over the sleeping dog and squeeze her thigh. “Yes, you sounded the smallest, littlest, barely noticeable kind of nervous at the beginning. Sort of like it was the first time you did it on one of the biggest stages.” I give her thigh a shake. “Give yourself some credit.”

Lia lets out a slow breath, leaning back on the cushions. “Fine. This is me giving myself credit.” Her smile is weak but at least it’s there.

“How many people do you think would do what you did? Put themselves out there like that? Not many,” I remind her.

“I guess you’re right. It did feel encouraging that Megan vouched for me.”

“I have a feeling people are going to keep doing that. You’re fucking worth it.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that tonight.” She turns her body to face me, leaning her head on the couch.

I love that she picks up on it. “You’re right. Because I want you to believe it.”

She reaches for my hand that’s still resting on her leg and turns it over. Lia puts her hand in mine, squeezes once, and pushes play on the TV, ready for the next quarter.

Chapter 43

Lia

Iwalkpastthehallway leading to the court, hearing bouncing basketballs and squeaking shoes. It’s perfect. There’s a lightness, an excitement to get back here, back to a routine. Apparently, everyone has recovered from the food poisoning that made its way through the staff.

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