Page 20 of Half-Court Heat
“You want to try dribbling between your legs?”
Her eyes widened. “Like, thecrossoverthing?”
“Sort of. Just one bounce for now. Plant your feet wider than your shoulders,” I instructed, “one leg in front of the other, and dribble once through. Then, catch the ball with the opposite hand.”
I demonstrated slowly, letting her watch the rhythm of it.
Paige bit her lip and copied me. Her first attempt hit her shin, but by the fifth try she got it clean. Then again. And again. The ball slapped the pavement, controlled and steady.
“Check it out!” she shouted. She looked up at me like I’d just given her a cheat code.
She kept going, alternating between behind-the-back and between-the-legs like she was inventing her own drill. There was no real finesse, but she was moving with joy—giddy and amazed at herself.
“You’re a natural,” I complimented. “You could be better than me one day.”
She scoffed. “Whatever.”
I shrugged. “You picked this up fast.”
Paige stopped dribbling and cradled the ball against her hip. “Do you think if I practiced enough, I could actually be good?”
Her voice was skeptical—uncertain in a way that made my chest squeeze. I hadn’t realized until then how much she might have watched me growing up. Not just rolled her eyes or ignored me, but actuallywatched.
I gave her an easy smile. “Only one way to find out.”
We were practicinglayups when I heard the crunch of tires on gravel.
The sound didn’t belong in our quiet cul-de-sac, where the only cars that passed by were our neighbors coming home from work or someone’s teenager learning to drive. I turnedinstinctively, shielding my eyes from the low-angled sun as a gleaming black SUV rolled to a stop in front of our mailbox.
Paige stopped mid-dribble and stared as well. “Who’s that?”
A driver in a black suit walked to the back of the SUV and retrieved a suitcase. He carefully set it on the asphalt.
The rear passenger door opened—and there she was.
She looked out of place and somehow perfectly right at home. Fresh off a private jet, no doubt. Fresh from a glamorous photoshoot. She wore sunglasses and matching sweats that she somehow made look likehaute couture. Her braids were piled into a loose bun, and she held a foil-covered casserole dish with a practiced grip like she was on her way to a church potluck.
Eva’s voice carried across the chilly air: “Hey, baby.”
My heart leapt into my throat, and for a moment, all I wanted was to sprint down the driveway and leap into her arms. Barely—just barely—I managed to hold myself back. My legs buzzed with restraint.
Eva shut the car door behind her and started walking up the driveway. Her sneakers were silent on the pavement. “Who’s winning?” she asked.
“Me!” Paige shouted.
I stared, still not believing my eyes. We’d texted earlier that morning. She’d mentioned she might finish early, but I had no idea she’d meantthisearly.
“How?” I gaped.
Her smile looked particularly pleased. “Surprised?”
“Uh—yeah,” I emphasized.
Her grin broadened. “Good. Then chartering that flight was worth it.”
“What’s that?” I asked, finally recovering enough to comment on the casserole dish.
She held up the foil-covered container like it was a sacred offering. “Mac and cheese,” she said. “Food frommypeople.”
