Cam

 

I had never missed my father more than I did as I sat on a bench in our locker room, preparing myself for the most important—and last—game of my life.

I would have given anything to have been able to ask for his advice, maybe listen to some of his own experiences when everything was on the line. I loved my teammates, I loved Coach Bradley, and I loved my mom. But sometimes, a guy just really needed to talk to his dad.

When the final beats of “’Till I Collapse” blared through my headphones, I pulled them off and threw them in my bag. That was basically the signal to everyone around me that they could finally speak to me.

Jesse scooted closer down the bench to make room for Colt and Boyd. “How you doing, man?” Jesse asked.

I stared at the floor, imagining the court in my mind. “Feeling good. Focused. You?”

I glanced up and caught his grin as he looked at the rest of our starters. Krys sat on a bench across from us. “Oh, we’re all good,” he said. “We’re damn good. Right boys?”

“Damn straight,” Boyd muttered.

“Hell, yes.” This from Colt.

“Fuck, yeah.”

All of our heads simultaneously jerked around to Krys, who sat there buzzing with energy, his legs shaking in anticipation. He saw all of our perplexed expressions. “What? I used the word right, didn’t I?”

Colt put his hand over his mouth like a proud father. “His first F bomb drop. I think I might cry.”

Jesse rolled his eyes at his brother and turned back to me. “You know, whatever happens out there, we got your back.”

He was talking about Warren. Tensions were already skyrocketing to the roof—they always were during the championship game. But this was unprecedented territory here. This was BelV. There was really no telling how heated things could get.

“I appreciate that,” I told him, bumping his fist with mine. “But I’ll be fine. That prick can’t touch me now. He’s got nothing. He is nothing.”

He nodded and slapped my back. “Exactly. Don’t forget that.”

All the coaches entered the locker room then, Coach Bradley at the front. He handed his clipboard off to Coach Tippins and faced all of us.

“A reporter asked me yesterday what I thought made me such a great coach,” he said, looking every one of us in the eyes. “And I told her it was all of you. Because a coach is only as good as his players. I’ve talked a lot about pride this season. About having pride in yourselves and about making your school and your peers and your families proud. But coaching you this season, watching you play as a team, you’ve made me proud. Proud to wear the blue and white, proud to call myself your coach, and proud to be standing before you today, leading you into the greatest battle you’ve ever faced.

“Today isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about completing the journey we set out on together back in October. It’s about taking what you’ve earned and never looking back. And it’s about taking your final steps into greatness. Not many people have moments like this in their lives. You have all been gifted with one. The chance to experience such a pivotal moment on one of the greatest stages in all of sports, and know that you’re here because you worked your asses off and you deserve this moment!

“You men are in the fight of your lives tonight. And that means that you don’t leave anything out on that court. Because there is no tomorrow. There won’t be another chance at redemption. No more practices, no more games, no more rankings. This is it. There’s no holding back tonight, there’s no playing it safe. You go out there and you play NCU ball because this is your moment! That means you play like fearless warriors! That means you play until you’ve got nothing left! That means you play like no one is going to stop you from carving your names onto that damn trophy!”

A buzzing had started around the room, charging the atmosphere.

“Donovan!” My ears perked up. “What are we going to do?”

“Bring the thunder.”

He looked to my right. “Jesse? What are we going to do?”

“Bring the thunder.”

“Newton?”

“Bring the thunder, Coach.”

“Krys?”

“Bring the fucking thunder!”

We all grinned when Coach did a double-take at Krys. “Bring the fucking thunder,” Coach repeated. “You’re damn right we are. Everyone in.”

We all stood up and put our hands in the middle.

“This is your game,” Coach said. “This is your night. No one has worked harder for this than you. So, go out there and prove that to everyone here tonight. Take what is yours!”

“Who are we?” I shouted.

“NCU!”

“And what are we going to do?”

“BRING THE THUNDER!”

After we broke it down, Coach took me aside and in a serious voice asked, “How’s the knee?”

I nodded confidently. “Good to go.”

“No pain?”

I bounced around on it. “None at all.”

We filed out of the locker room and down the darkened tunnel toward the arena. My pulse was racing, my heart was pounding, and my blood was rushing through my veins. With every step I took, adrenaline spiked through my system. With every breath I sucked in, my body trembled with restrained energy. The closer we got to the court, the louder the roar of the crowd became. From down here in the tunnel, it really did sound like thunder raging above our heads.

It felt like coming home.

We were near the mouth of the tunnel when the spectators began to chant “NCU” over and over.

I took my first step onto the court.

And smiled.

Lights.

Cameras.

Game time.

 

***

 

The first quarter had been like a tug-of-war.

We couldn’t get more than a few points ahead before BelV answered back, tying the score up. Or taking the lead.

The second quarter was much of the same, except that we pulled ahead by seven points with six minutes left to go before halftime. Then Krys got into foul trouble and had to be taken out for the rest of the half, allowing BelV’s huge center to take over on offense. We couldn’t contain him, and BelV ended up pulling ahead by three points as we entered the locker room.

Coach had another speech ready to go for us, and we took the court for the third quarter with a whole new mindset.

I’d warned Reese last night that she shouldn’t expect me to say more than two words to her tonight, which she understood. I couldn’t afford to get distracted in any way, and I was afraid that if I even got a mere glimpse of her tits, I’d start shooting like I was in second grade.

As for Warren?

Oh, he was his usual douchebag self as we guarded each other. Spouting off all kinds of bullshit about me and Reese and what he would have done to her that night at the party had he gotten the chance.

Unbelievable.

I’d kicked the guy’s ass in front of tons of people and he still had the nerve to talk shit. Unfortunately, the crowd was so loud that the refs couldn’t hear what he was saying. Fortunately, that meant neither could I. I only got bits and pieces of it, but I was so far in the zone it went in one ear and out the other.

I couldn’t say his trash talking had affected his game, though. I was playing the best defense of my life and he still had eighteen points. Of course, the same was true when he defended me. He made me work for it, but I had twenty-five points on the night.

My jersey was drenched with sweat by the time the third quarter was winding to an end.

With four minutes left, BelV was up by five points and we needed to close the gap. Coach called out plays as Jesse drove the ball down the court, looking at his wings, searching for holes. I ran around the BelV players, fighting to get open with Warren hot on my tail. There was grunting, there was groaning, there was the squeak of our shoes against the hardwood.

I was at the top of the key with the ball, staring down the open lane when it happened.

I surged forward to pass by Warren when he deliberately stuck out his foot, right in my path, and tripped me.

The leg he tripped was my right one.

Pain sliced through me.

My right knee went down hard, bouncing off the hardwood with teeth-grinding force. I fell to the floor clutching my knee, silently praying the sharp spikes of pain would soon ebb, like that of a twisted ankle. I heard whistles blowing in the background and my teammates talking to me, but I couldn’t focus on anything except commanding the pain to go away.

Through the fog, I heard her voice. “Cam?” Reese said. “Cam, talk to me. Is it your knee?”

Clenching my teeth, I nodded.

“What does it feel like?”

I felt her soft fingers move mine aside on my knee, replacing them as she massaged around the knee cap.

“Sharp spikes,” I managed.

Gus was on the other side of me helping Reese, while Coach and my teammates stood over us watching and waiting.

“Did you feel the pain before you went down or only after you hit the floor?” Gus asked.

I had to think back. “After I hit the floor.”

I noticed him and Reese sharing a look and wanted to scream. Was that a good thing? Bad? What did it mean?

“Can you walk on it?” Reese asked.

I slowly straightened it out, wincing at the pain but relieved it wasn’t worse. When I’d ruptured it four years ago, I’d had tears in my eyes it was so bad. This was more than uncomfortable, but I could still breathe through it.

“Yeah, I think so.”

I gritted my teeth as Gus and Reese helped me stand up and slowly led me off the court to the sound of supportive applause from the stands. All of my teammates nodded at me as I passed, but I noticed their worried expressions.

The team needed me if we wanted to win.

Everyone knew it.

Right before we entered the tunnel, I peeked over my shoulder and caught Warren’s eyes.

The son of a bitch was smiling right at me.

Oh, he thought he’d won, did he? He thought it was over? Well, the bastard better think again. I was coming back. I didn’t care if I had to hobble around the entire rest of the game, I was coming back. Like Coach said, I would leave everything out on that damn court.

I’d play until I had nothing left.

Even if that meant I wouldn’t have a knee to stand on.