Page 127 of Beautiful Broken Love

He nodded, swiping the tears off his cheeks. “I will. I promise.”

I scanned him one last time, then went to the car to get inside it. When I was on the main road and driving away from Mama’s house, Davina reached over the middle console and took my hand in hers.

“I’m proud of you, Deke.”

I glanced at her and smiled a little.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m proud of me too.”

SIXTY-EIGHT

DAVINA

When March rolled around, I drove to Atlanta with Mama, Abe, and a swirl of excitement. We had our Atlanta Ravens gear on, all of us wearing number seventeen as we walked toward the stadium.

This was the third time we attended one of Deke’s home games, and it was one of the last games before playoffs. The temperature was perfectly warm, and the spring air caressed my skin.

As soon as we checked in and took our courtside seats, I was bursting with energy. There was just something about coming to a basketball stadium—inhaling the scent of buttery popcorn and greasy pizza, the lively chatter as everyone took their seats and sat with drinks, sipping and laughing. The sight of the fans who appeared, decked out in team colors, with colorful wigs and face paint.

It was glorious.

Octavia met us at the gates so we could all go in together. Abe sat between Mama and Octavia, while I sat next to Octavia, who had Aleesa on her lap. Aleesa was squirming, ready to get down and make a show cheering for her dad.

“She’s a handful, but an angel compared to Roger,” Octavia said, and I laughed, remembering the bratty three-year-old she last nannied.

Shortly after Javier let me into his house to talk to Deke (something I would beforevergrateful for) he called Octavia back and asked if she could look after his daughter. I couldn’t say I was surprised. Even before she was officially hired, Deke insisted that Javier talked nonstop about whether or not to hire her. Deke and I knew what that meant: she was still on his mind, even months later.

According to Octavia, Javier was a pure grump who mostly ignored her when she was around. He did, however, enjoy her cooking, and she was positive that was her only saving grace.

I leaned forward as Aleesa looked up at me with round green eyes. “You ready to cheer for your daddy?” I asked.

“Yeah! Daddy!” she shrilled, and I gave her cheek a little squeeze.

As the stadium filled, I noticed some familiar faces and gasped when I realized it was Whitney and Camille making their way toward us. Whitney squealed, and I hopped up to hug her.

“Whitney! Hi!”

“Hey, Vina!” she sang over my shoulder. She stepped past me to hug Octavia and to introduce herself to Mama and Abe. I could tell Abe wanted to ignore her and sit still with his soundproof headphones and Ravens hoodie on, but Mama insisted he say something.

“Camille, as beautiful as always.” I gave her a big hug and then fist-bumped Eli, who was next to her.

“He bought tickets for everyone, huh?” I asked, sitting.

“He did! He even got Mama and her new boo seats in the box.” Whitney bumped my shoulder, and I laughed. I’d heard all about Mrs. Blake’s new boyfriend through Deke, who constantly griped about it but was willing to do anything to make her happy (like get them tickets for a date in box seats).

It didn’t take long for the lights to dim and the players to be announced. When they said Deke’s name (and they saved it for last, of course), the entire stadium went into an uproar as he jogged out.

I swear I was never going to get tired of this image. My man running out, a wide smile and dimples, both of his hands up as he basked in the attention and love he most definitely deserved.

I screamed his name as Whitney whistled and Aleesa tried reaching for him, which was adorable.

When the players lined up to prepare for the national anthem, Deke’s eyes found mine. I grinned while waving at him.

Deke waved back, then mouthed, “You’re blushing, D.”

I laughed, and he winked, raising two fingers to his lips, kissing the pads of them, and then pointing them toward me. I kissed mine, too, and pointed them his way. It was the silent message we sent to each other before every game. Even if the game was televised and I couldn’t make it, whenever he dropped that first bucket, he’d kiss his fingers and point them at one of the cameras. It was damn sweet, and I would never get enough of it.

Deke balled his heart out that day. I hadn’t seen him shine so brightly in so long, but it must’ve been an amazing feeling, knowing all the people he cared about—his1 percent—were in the stadium cheering him on. All he had to do was look over his shoulder, and we were there, rooting for him.

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