Page 69 of The Pickleball Girl Finds Her Match

Endy exhaled the breath she had been holding, cupped Sebastian’s face with her free hand, then leaned down and smothered her lips against his, kissing him deeply.

“My boyfriend needs some Extra Strength Tylenol,” she told the EMT, her heart skipping and her sparkling eyes never leaving Sebastian’s.

The EMT reached into his kit with a smile. “I think your friend Paul actually didn’t need to help set you up. Looks like you’re doing fine on your own.”

The crowd burst into applause as Sebastian was helped to his feet by Endy and the EMT. When Paco rushed up, she let him take Sebastian’s arm while she walked back to the stands. Climbing the first step, Endy saw Barbara Tennyson watching her. Endy ducked her head and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

But then Barbara gestured to Endy, patting the empty seat next to her. And as the music rang over Stadium Court, Barbara’s and Endy’s eyes locked and the two women smiled at each other.

Sebastian’s knee was wrapped tightly and the back of his shirt and shorts were spotted with dirt from lying on the court. He limped toward his seat, trying not to put any pressure on his right leg. The EMT had iced and wrapped his knee and given him the Extra Strength Tylenol, all enough to allow him to stand.

But any weight or movement on his knee was excruciating. The EMT said if Sebastian continued to play, there was a possibility that he might do permanent damage to his knee.

The referee approached them, a timer clenched in her fist. She looked directly at Sebastian, now settled in a chair but still grimacing slightly. “You have about three minutes left on the medical time-out. Are you able to return to play?”

Paco, his chest puffed out, stepped in front of Sebastian and stared hard at the ref. “Give us some room, sister.” He shooed her away. “My associate and I need to confer.” Then he turned to Sebastian, looked him in the eye, and said, “Listen, loser”—his hands clutched at the front of his event T-shirt—“I need to tell you something.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

“Win or lose today, these have been the best months of my life, hanging with you.”

Sebastian softened and he chuckled. “Paco, you’re only ten. You have many more years—”

“Shut up, I’m talking.” His big brown eyes filled. “I wanna thank you for believing in me … because no one else ever has.”

Sebastian took a deep breath and pulled Paco into a hug.

“Jeez, get off me!” Paco struggled to get away, and Sebastian responded by laughing and squeezing Paco tighter.

“Okay, then let’s go back out there and finish, win or lose.”

Paco pulled away. “Seriously, Sebastian, if you’re too messed up, we don’t have to go back and play. You don’t need to go out there for me.”

“That’s cool, Paco. But wearegoing back out.” Sebastian resolutely nodded and pushed himself up to standing. “I’m finally on a court doing something forme.”

“Time-in!” the referee announced. She rolled the ball to Paco. “Ten, ten, two.”

Sebastian positioned himself in front of the baseline with his weight on his good leg. The newly wrapped bandage around his knee looked bright in the sunlight. He looked at Paco and nodded once.

Paco quickly dropped the ball, swiped at it, and sliced the serve. Unprepared, Brayden put his paddle out too late, and the ball landed on the court, twisting out to the right.

“Point!” called the ref. “Eleven, ten, two.”

Sebastian hobbled to the other side of their court. Tension was high, with the crowd on the edge of their seats, knowing that one point could decide the champions.

Taking a deep breath, Paco served to Joel, the ball landing deep.

Joel hit the ball to Paco, who returned the ball and then moved forward.

“Heads up, peewee.” Joel smirked. And he lifted the ball in a lob over Paco’s head.

Sebastian, anticipating Joel’s shot, had hobbled closer to the middle, standing with all his weight on his good leg. With his long, muscular arms, he reached out and swatted at the ball, slamming it right into Joel’s body. A gasp rang through the crowd.

Joel’s paddle, which he had positioned close to his chest, deflected the ball, and it shot out, clearing the net, straight down the line, under Sebastian’s still upraised arm to kiss the line, bouncing up and out.

But Paco, hidden behind Sebastian, darted across the court, a look of determination burning on his face. Gripping his paddle tightly, he dove toward the ball as it hung midair, and with the smallest of movements, delivered a smack that sent the ball sailing around the net post … landing it solidly in Joel and Brayden’s court.

“Point. Game. And match,” called out the pickleball ref. “Lopez, Hall. Twelve, ten.”

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