Page 46 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

“Why is that again?” Sarah asks.

I swivel my head toward her and crack open an eye. “Why is what?”

“Why don’t we talk? I thought…” She bites her lip, glancing at her hands resting in her lap. “I thought we hit it off. You took my number, and I really liked you, then out of nowhere you just disappeared.”

I grit my teeth, suddenly feeling like an asshole. It’s not her fault Becca shaded everyone else from my view. But I don’t know what to say. I want to tell her the truth—that I’m taken. In love with the craziest, most amazing woman in the world. But I can’t. Not yet.

I rub my jaw and blow out a breath. “We did hit it off. I’m just… not in that place right now. I don’t want to lead you on, and have you expect something I’m not capable of giving.”

She nods, biting on her lower lip. “I get it. But you don’t have to ghost me. We can be friends, at least, right?”

I grin. “Sure, friends sounds good.”

We make small talk for the rest of the flight, but I don’t see her often after that. As the team’s physical therapist, she doesn’t really have direct contact with the coaching staff. She’s on the outskirts, dealing with the players as needed.

The days go quick, and we make it through semi-finals without too much fanfare. But every spare second is tinged with the ache to have Becca here celebrating the wins. Talking to her on the phone is better than nothing, but it doesn’t satisfy the need.

We won.

I’m standing in the middle of the arena, screaming fans drowning out the pounding of my heart. Players crowd around us, the Gatorade spilling down Coach Andrews’s back. This feels so damn good. Almost like there’s nothing in the world that can beat it. Except my joy is muted because the one person I really want to celebrate with isn’t here.

I look at the reporters surrounding us and the cameramen holding equipment above our heads. I tap my heart, then kiss my fingers, pointing toward one of the cameras. I’m not sure if Becca will see, but if she does, I’m hopeful she’ll know it’s for her.

I’m still staring into the lens when someone tugs on my arm. I pivot, expecting a player to bring me in for a hug, but before I can stop her, Sarah jumps into my arms, wrapping herself around me. I hug her back, laughing at her excitement.

&nbs

p; “We did it! Can I say ‘we’ when I’m new to the team?” She beams.

Her happiness is contagious and I feel the smile spreading on my face.

We did it.

I make it back to my room and shower, changing into something more comfortable before finally pulling out my phone. I haven’t looked at it since before the game, and I’m antsy to talk to my girl. There’s four unread messages, all from Becca.

#1 Player: Damn, big head. You’re looking mighty fly out there on that court. Good luck, not that y’all will need it.

#1 Player: What is that ref THINKING?! That was clearly a foul.

My lips quirk up.

#1 Player: Just so you know, I only fuck winners. Here’s hoping you make the cut.

#1 Player: CHAMPIONS BABY! I’m so proud of y’all. I wish I was there.

My heart swells with her last words because having her proud of me feels damn good. I bring up her name and press call.

“Hiya, Champ.” Her voice is more subdued than I expect.

“Hey, baby girl. Did you watch the game?”

“Why, did y’all win?”

I smirk. “You gonna play that with me every time you’re not here?”

“Maybe.” There’s a pause. “Doesn’t seem like you need me at your games anyway.”

My brow furrows. “You can’t feel me pining all the way from here? I’m practically broken on the floor without you. Winning doesn’t mean half as much without you here to stroke my ego.”

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