Page 65 of Shot Taker

NOVA

“Get in!” Mari nods toward the passenger side of the car as we bounce into the parking garage after the game. “Harlan will meet us at home.”

Today might be a holiday, but there’s a lot at stake.

I haven’t had Christmas with my sister in a few years, plus Harlan and the entire team are involved.

Including the guy I’m secretly dating.

But no big deal.

I eye the back seat filled with wrapped gifts, but I squeeze into the passenger seat. “That was an incredible game. You a fan yet?”

“It’s growing on me,” she admits. “It helps that the team is having a good season.”

“Harlan relaxing a few notches?”

“Never.” She grins as she backs out of the spot.

I’m grateful we’re in the team section because it’s easier to get out. The garage is full of honking people wishing one another well.

Mari cuts me a look as she waits for the gate to rise so we can turn onto the street. “Thank you for being so excited about the team. I get that sports aren’t your thing.”

“It’s the family business now,” I counter.

“Well, I’m proud of you for doing the art. Harlan said it’s going to be incredible.”

The drive is easy, tiny flecks of snow making it feel extra festive.

My mural is growing and evolving every day.

So are things between me and Clay.

When he’s in Denver, he’s attentive, but the sport is grueling for the players. I have new appreciation as I see it up close. All the ice baths and massages and physio in the world can’t fix the toll it takes on the human body.

He’s opening up more to me. He lives in his head, but I feel as if I have a pass to peek inside.

Maybe not an all-access pass, but I don’t think he’s ever given one.

And as for the secrecy, I honestly like that we’re privately an item.

He’s a magnet for attention, good and bad. Being with him means getting swept into the same storm.

I’m still figuring out how to navigate my own life, not to mention his.

The winning streak for the team is a plus. But every time I check the standings, I’m reminded LA is even higher.

Clay’s dream.

His destination.

His legacy.

He watches every one of their games, studying the players and the schemes.

I don’t know what that means for him or for us, but I try to enjoy what we have and not think too hard about it.

When we arrive at Harlan’s house, a huge catering truck is out front.

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