“You’re dragging ass, Reynolds. Shaw take Reynold’s place while he rests the foot.”

“Coach.”

He lifts a hand. “Don’t bother. You’re off. I’d rather you be rested and ready.”

My foot is killing me, but I keep my face neutral, not giving in to the grimace that begs me to grind down on my back molars to distract from the throbbing radiating up my leg. I sit on a chair at the end of our row, leaving a half dozen seats between me and anyone else. Cursing Coach and Shaw, I wipe my face with a towel and then toss the terrycloth onto the floor in front of me. I know it’s no one’s fault but my own, but I’m pissed anyway.

I’m off my game, and I don’t know if I can blame it on just my foot. I’m not as focused. I spent the past two days with Blair and hardly thought about ball. I’d even put off coming back last night, convincing her to leave at the ass crack of dawn this morning to get back in time for practice. A good break before the crunch of the season was what I’d told myself when guilt crept in for not getting in my drills and daily run. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so eager to have time off. I’m not where I should be, and I have only my lack of concentration to blame.

Coach takes the chair next to me as the rest of the team runs through the plays with Shaw on point.

“How many more weeks of physical therapy?”

“Two more weeks. The foot is fine, coach. It bothers me when I push too hard. They said that was to be expected.”

“I’m switching up your workouts. Until further notice, I want you and Shaw working together. Everywhere you go, he goes. Everything you do in this gym, he does.”

I open my mouth to object, close it, and think through my words before I say something I can’t take back. “I’ll be ready. I won’t let my team down.”

“I know. You always leave it all on the court, but your team needs you to take it easy. Even if you were at your best, we would still need a strong six man. I think Shaw can be that.”

I nod. I don’t like the thought of anyone taking my spot. Least of all the guy who has one foot on the court and the other on the field. What happens if he decides he just wants to play baseball? Or gets hurt? It’s ironic, I realize, worrying about someone else getting hurt while my foot screams. I rationalize it away because I hurt myself playing the sport I love, not the one I’m splitting my time playing.

“All right.”

“The guys look to you, and I depend on you. I’ve never had to ask you to do anything because you’ve always just done. I’m asking this for me, for your team. We need Shaw ready to go sooner than later.”

Blair calls as I’m changing out of my sweaty practice jersey into a clean-ish T-shirt for weight lifting and drills.

“What’s up?” I ask, my voice less grumpy than I feel.

“Heading back to Succulent Hill. I forgot my cell charger and my backpack in our rush out. Got time to entertain me while I drive?”

“Got five.”

“I figured it out,” she says, and I can hear the excitement in her voice. “I have you to thank, really. I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me on my own, but what you said about heart and talent finally hit me today while I was unpacking. The thing I’m passionate about is other people’s goals.”

I cock a brow. “Your dream is for other people to achieve their dreams?”

“I know that sounds like a cop out. Hell, even I thought that, which is why I’ve had such a hard time pinning it down. But hear me out. Think about all the people who have had an impact in your life. Those who helped you get closer to your goals. With social media and a myriad of goal-setting resources, there’s an entire market out there for helping people achieve their goals. Live streams, vlogs, blogs, books, podcasts, life coaching, the list is endless. That’s what I want to do.”

“The lady boss that creates more lady bosses.”

“Exactly.” While I’d love to pretend it’s all about me, I can tell she’s really excited about the idea. She’s a bundle of excitement that’s contagious even through the phone. “I’m meeting with my advisor this week to see if there are opportunities in the career resource center.”

“You’re really something, you know that? You’re willing to dedicate your entire life to helping others, and I’m bitter about helping one dude on my team.”

She’s quiet for a beat, and I picture the adorable way her brows scrunch together when she’s trying to figure something out. “Why? That isn’t like you.”

“This guy just gets under my skin. He has talent, but I’m not sure about heart.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He’s a multi-sport athlete, which means he plays two sports—basketball and baseball.”

“Oh yeah, Tanner Shaw. Mario mentioned him. It’s kind of impressive that he’s playing both sports.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s a giant pain in the ass for everyone.”

“So, you think because he isn’t solely dedicated to basketball that his heart is less than his talent?”

“How could it possibly be otherwise? I can’t imagine playing another sport, trying to juggle between two different games, and then comparing that dedication to someone who only plays one. You see what it’s like, how basketball takes like a thousand percent of my time.”

More silence that makes me feel like a prick.

“Maybe his path is different, but I don’t think it’s fair to question his heart. You said yourself that the test of heart comes with how well a guy meshes with the team come game time. You’re only a few games in, and he played less than six minutes of the last game.”

“Keeping stats on the rookie? Should I be jealous?”

“No, I was keeping stats on you, dummy. When he was playing, you weren’t.”

Those words, which were meant to be reassuring, cut deep. Is that why I’m being a giant baby? I’ve never had a problem giving other guys the limelight. Fuck, it’s what makes me a good point man. I’m not greedy. I take my shots, but I don’t force it. I always do what’s best for the team. Until now.

“It’s my last year,” I say and wonder how such a bland statement can hold so much weight. “My foot is slowing me down, and if someone is going to take my spot, I want that person to give everything for the team. Someone like . . .”

“Someone like you?”

I nod, aware that she can’t see the movement but unable to speak.

“Give him a chance to prove you wrong. Maybe he just needs someone to help in his journey. Someone smarter and wiser. Someone with experience leading a team. Someone with heart and talent.” Her voice is sugary sweet, and I let her words heal like a salve to the open wound of my ego.

“Someone who understands what it takes to be great.”

I’m eager for more. The way she believes in me almost has me convinced I’m capable. But she doesn’t say anything else.

I can do this. For my team. For myself. I can live up to the standard that Blair believes I’m capable of.

Damn, she’s good.

The locker room door opens, and a few other guys stop in to change before hitting the weight room. “Gotta go. See ya later?”

“Sure, text me later. I need to do some school stuff for a few hours.”

Damn, this girl spends more time studying than anyone I know.

I find Shaw in the weight room as he’s finishing a set of squats. By the annoyed look he shoots me, Coach has already informed him that we’re going to be working together from now on.

He moves to pull all the weight off, but I shake my head. “Another set.”

Shaw glares but silently adds another ten pounds to each side of the barbell.

“You need to build up your leg strength and endurance. When you’re leading the point, your legs have to be as fresh at the end of the game as the beginning. Forget about what the rest of the guys are doing,” I say as he looks around the room, envy clear in his eyes. “You have to be stronger, faster, and smarter out there.”

He takes the weight on his back and squats out eight reps. When he finishes and faces me, breath ragged, the glint in his eye is determined. I hide my approval.

Every exercise is the same. I push him harder than he wants, but he doesn’t back down.

“All right, let’s hit the gym for some ball drills and then we’ll join the team for the run.”

His jaw flexes. As we walk out onto the court, I grab two balls and pass one back to Shaw. “I usually start with some half court runs, switching off every turn. Left up, right back, and so on until I feel warm.”

I take off, and a split second later, he’s beside me, pushing me faster. I lose track of how many times we’ve gone up and down the court after ten.

“All right, now, suicides with the ball. Stop and touch the line with your free hand and then switch over to the other hand.”

Again, we turn what should be a light warm up into a race. The only sound in the gym is the steady drumming of the ball hitting the hardwood and our sneakers squeaking as we pivot at each line on the court. We stop after each one is complete, only resting as long as the other will allow. My foot throbs, but I don’t dare let him see me weak.

Sweat pours down my face, my back, my arms. After the fifth, rookie cracks a smile. After seven, I join him, my lips curling of their own accord. At ten, a laugh that is filled with tension, relief, and hope escapes from my chest, and the sound is like the first crack in a dam. It grows and builds and then is joined by Shaw until we collapse on the floor completely exhausted, probably delirious, but I’ve gained his respect. And him, mine.

And Blair was right.

Nathan’s birthday is the following week and as much as I don’t feel like going out, I can’t deny the man a proper twenty-first birthday celebration. Joel elbows me and lifts a hand. I turn my attention to the door to see Blair entering The Hideout. I swear the guy has girl radar and one eye always trained on the door.

My girl couldn’t make it until after she finished studying. She’s starting to make me feel guilty for my big brain with all the time she spends at the library. Not that I don’t ever need to open a book, but I only have to a couple of hours a week tops. Whereas it’s all Blair seems to do.

I meet her halfway and pull her into a hug. “Hey, you made it.”

She goes limp in my arms, leaning her head against my chest.

“So tired,” she mumbles as she pulls back.

“We don’t have to stay long. The birthday boy is one more shot away from passing out.” I slide a hand into the back pocket of her jeans and guide us back to the bar.

Nathan is propped up on a stool, eyes glazed and wearing a drunken smile. “Blair, you made it.”

He makes a move to get off the stool and stumbles, setting off a domino effect as he crashes into guys on the team, who in turn bump into the people around us.

Z helps a totally clueless Nathan back up onto the chair. “Don’t move,” he instructs.

Blair goes to Nathan and embraces him. “Happy birthday. Can I buy you a drink?”

He winks at me over her shoulder and sniffs her hair. Fucker is messing with me, but I’m not scared. He knows I’d kick his ass if he made a move on my girl. Still, I move closer just in case he decides to test me.

“Hell yes,” Nathan responds and pulls back. That’s right, dude, hands off.

She orders two shots of Fireball at his request and Nathan slurs the same toast he’s been shouting all night, “To love and basketball.”

That seems to put him over the edge, thank God, and Nathan voices his desire to go home and pass the fuck out. Joel and Z help him stand, and Blair and I trail behind. We’re almost to the door when someone steps in front of her.

“A word,” David says, teeth clenched and jaw flexing.

My hand tenses in her back pocket, and I tug her closer. “We’re on our way out.”

The glare that David shoots me further pisses me off, but I feel Blair cower next to me. Instead of telling him to get lost, she pulls away from me. “Go ahead with the guys, I’m right behind you.”

The fuck? I start to protest, but she leans up and presses a kiss to my lips. I relent. “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes,” she repeats with a nod.

I’m bristling as I walk outside.

“Something doesn’t feel right.” I pace behind the car as Z gets Nathan in and Joel starts the car. “Maybe I should go back in and get her. I’m gonna go back in.”

No one is listening to me as I work this out aloud. David looked angry, and as tough as Blair is, and as much as I don’t want to be the kind of guy who acts like a jealous asshole, this just doesn’t feel right.

“I’m gonna go get her,” I repeat, louder this time so the guys can hear. I get the faintest head tilt in acknowledgment.

My eyes scan the bar when I step back inside, and my pulse quickens when I don’t immediately see Blair.

I push toward the back, where I found them last time, and it seems this is David’s go-to spot for cornering women. I’d only meant to check and make sure she was okay, but the tears in Blair’s eyes push me to action.

“I can’t keep doing this. I’ve barely slept all week. Do what you have to do, David, but I’m done helping you.” Blair’s voice quivers, but I’m damn proud of her for standing up for herself, even if I’m hella confused about what’s going on.

“Blair,” I say her name just loud enough to be heard but don’t move to put myself between them. I get the feeling that she needs to fight this battle on her own. I’m just back up, and I want fuck face to know it.

Instead of the anger I’d expected from David at my approach, he looks downright gleeful. “Do what I have to do, huh?”

There is panic in Blair’s eyes as she looks between us. He steps toward me, and she reaches for his arm. The hell? He rips his arm away from her and continues until we’re chest to chest. He isn’t a short dude, but I have him by several inches.

“Don’t worry, bro, she’s all yours. I got what I wanted from her, including some mementos to remember her best assets.” He winks, which is the final snap to my barely contained rage. Don’t know where the fuck this guy gets off, but I don’t like the way he suggests he still has any ties to her.

I shove him, and he staggers back. Before I can advance, I’m being pulled backward by Z, who I hadn’t realized followed me back inside. “Should get out of here, man.”

Blair’s crying fills the silence of the parking lot as we’re ushered out to Joel’s car. Z pushes us into the back with Nathan, who’s already passed out.

“What the hell?” Joel asks, getting a look at our faces.

“Just drive,” Z says as he slams his door shut.

I sit, stunned, as Joel takes off to the house. What the hell just happened?

“Dude.” Joel’s eyes find mine in the rearview mirror, and he nods toward Blair. Right, I’m meant to be comforting my girl.

“Come here,” I murmur and pull Blair into my arms. She falls into my chest and sobs harder. She tries to speak, but I run a hand through her hair and tell her we’ll talk later.

I need to get my emotions in check before I deal with hers. I’m pissed, and only part of my anger is at David. I’m also mad at myself for losing my cool. I mean, he totally deserved it, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but I’ve never been in a bar brawl. In fact, the only time I’ve ever gotten into any kind of physical altercation has been on the basketball floor. It’s the only place that has ever gotten me riled up enough to want to throw a punch. Until now. Until Blair.

Her crying quiets as I lead her out of the car and up to my room. She crawls onto my bed and kicks off her shoes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey.” I slide in next to her. “What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

That seems to set her off again, and her chest heaves with new tears. I hold her until she cries herself to sleep, and then I slip downstairs.

Joel and Z are in the living room watching television.

“She okay?” Joel asks when I plop down onto the couch.

I nod. “Yeah, I think so. Guy was a total ass to her. Never expected her to react like that, though,” I admit. “She’s sleeping now.”

“What the hell happened in there to make you haul off and hit the guy?” Joel asks.

“I didn’t hit him, just shoved a tiny bit.” Okay a lot, whatever. I fill them in the best I remember and include the bits that Blair has told me about the way her relationship ended with David. At least the parts I don’t think she’ll mind my sharing.

“She was really shaken. It doesn’t add up. You know the guy?” I ask Joel.

“Know of him. Not any more than what you told me, though. He’s a Sigma, and he’s a tool.”

“I’m gonna text Mario. Let Vanessa know what happened and see if she knows anything.”

“I’ll text Mario,” Joel interjects. “You need to chill out before you do something stupid.”