Page 14 of Twisted Truths
I roll my eyes. “Laying it on a bit thick there with the superstar, don’t you think?” But he’s right. I’ve been staring at this report for way too long, and all it has resulted in is going round and round in circles. I still believe it wasn’t Ziggy, but nothing new is jumping out at me. “Who are they playing?”
“Timberflat High School.”
My lips tug up into a smug grin. Timberflat were our rivals back when I was on the Red Backs, and it was so satisfying to beat them in my final game in Australia. “Why didn’t you start with that?”
Chapter Six
NASH
It’s like a time warp setting foot in the old gym. The squeak of sneakers and the relentless thumps of the basketballs hitting the linoleum floors feels oddly comforting, but it’s hard to tamp down the slight pang of disappointment over being so close to my NBA dreams, only to be dragged back here.
My agent called after I landed to check in with me. The Shamrocks management were sympathetic to the fact I’d lost my family in such a horrific way, but with the season starting in two months, they need me back as soon as possible for training. If I sign the contract, they’re giving me four weeks to organise the funeral and get back to the States. Otherwise, they move on to the next player. It’s a business to them.
I totally understand that, and I’m grateful for the opportunity, but I’m also not leaving until we clear my sister’s name—no matter how long it takes. Ziggy wouldn’t let anyone blame me for something I didn’t do if the roles were reversed. I won’t let her down.
As I follow Levi over to the bench, I don’t miss the open stares from the Barrenridge players or the nudged elbows andnods in my direction from the crowd. The only thing unnerving about all the attention is I don’t know if it’s because of basketball or my family. This is a small town. By now everyone has heard the rumours.
Thankfully, the ref blows his whistle, and it shifts the attention off me. The players rush over to their prospective benches, and I’m back under the microscope. Assistant Coach Petty scowls at me before he’s called over to the scorer’s bench to check the players have all been entered into the electronic scoring system.
“You’re Nash Stone,” a kid with curly hair states, his face going red when a couple of other players groan.
Mutters of “No shit, Cuddy,” “State the bloody obvious,” and “Duh,” float around us.
I slip my hands in my pockets and shift on my feet, suddenly uncomfortable in my own skin, but somehow finding it within me to force a smile and nod at the kid. “The one and the same.”
His eyes glance up to my old Red Backs number twenty-three jersey hanging on the wall—it was retired after I signed my first contract in the States. He swallows before looking back at Levi, who is trying and failing to hide his amusement.
“Right, boys,” my brother says, clapping his hands to get the team’s full attention. “Let’s show Nash what the current Red Backs are made of. He’s been where you’re standing. He’s bled Barrenridge red and black. I know a lot of you have looked up to him for a long time, so prove to him you deserve to wear those jerseys. Nash didn’t get to the NBA without hard work, determination, and shattering expectations, and that’s the mentality I want you to take into tonight’s game.” He places his fist in the middle of the group, and the players all follow suit. “Red Backs on three. One, two, three?—”
“Red Backs!” the players shout.
Four boys take a seat on the bench, while the rest step out on to the court.
The game kicks off to loud cheers from the crowd, and to say I’m impressed is an understatement. The team is a well-oiled machine, and their defensive pressure is unmatched. Number three steals the ball in our offensive half, dribbling three times before completing a smooth behind-the-back pass to number five, who’s already charging down the court. The Barrenridge crowd roars as he takes it all the way to the basket, leaping into the air and finishing with a fierce dunk that sends the gym into a frenzy. The scoreboard lights up, and I can’t help but smile.
Levi’s team isn’t just good, they’re fast, disciplined and fearless. The Timberflat defenders are scrambling, but Barrenridge has taken control of the game.
“Who’s that kid?” I ask Levi when number three locks down Timberflat’s best shooter with tight coverage, forcing yet another turnover.
“Theo Crawley,” Levi answers with a grimace.
“As in?—”
“Tanner’s younger brother,” he finishes. “Yeah.”
I spot my sister’s arsehole ex-boyfriend in the bleachers with a young blonde girl sitting meekly beside him—she can’t be any older than eighteen or nineteen. My fists clench at the smug look on the bastard’s face.
Levi pulls me from my murderous thoughts. “He’s good, though. Despite who his brother is. There’s something in him I haven’t seen for years.”
“Not bad,” I agree, ignoring Theo’s older brother and leaning forward to watch him with a critical eye.
The kid is everywhere—snatching steals, blocking shots, and disrupting Timberflat’s offensive flow at every turn. It’s not only his speed or his defence; it’s the way he reads thegame. Every time Timberflat tries to run a set play, Theo’s one step ahead, cutting off passing lanes or getting his hand on the ball at just the right moment.
“Impressive,” I mutter under my breath, more to myself than to Levi.
Levi chuckles, glancing over at me. “Told you. The kid’s got a future.”
I nod, continuing to watch Theo move across the court with precision, anticipating every play. He’s almost winning the game off his own back.
