More than that, I don’t believe him. That it’s nothing personal for him. Clay misses those guys. He might even feel responsible for what happened. But he won’t talk to me about it. We’re spending more time alone together than we ever have, but he’s even more of a mystery.
“Jay understands how the league works. He’s been in it as long as Clay. But it’s a weird system. As an influencer, I decide who I work with and when and for how much. I choose my partnerships, and I can end one for any reason. If I’m exhausted, I can take a break.
“But as a pro athlete, they pay you enough money and you stop being a human. You’re a god, but you’re also a commodity. A rare, expensive one, like a diamond. Everyone around you worships you, but it’s all about getting the most out of you until you’re used up—the most points, the most endorsements, the most cash. People buy and sell you, trade you and show you off, and expect you to be grateful because it’s done by the rules of the player agreement, and at the end of the day, you have a house in Malibu and three ex-wives to show for it.”
I arch a brow. “That’s a very specific example.”
We head down the street, through the crowds of well-dressed Californians, sunglasses on their heads and sandals on their feet.
“My brother is loyalty first, the job second. There’ve been times in his career he could’ve gotten ahead at the cost of someone else, but he didn’t do it. Chances to make more money and sell his soul, but he won’t,” Brooke says. “When we were kids, our mom always said, ‘None of it’s worth it if you can’t live with yourself.’ He took that to heart.”
We stop at a corner, waiting for a light to change. “I wish Clay could square things with the guys.”
“Distance makes it hard.”
“But they’re coming to town next week.”
An idea grabs me, and I grin at my friend.
Brooke’s eyes narrow. “What are you planning?”
5
CLAY
“First game against Denver,” Nova calls as she shifts into the car Sunday morning.
“I shouldn’t be eating pancakes. They kick my ass, it’s on you.”
Nova arranged to go to brunch before the game to help me relax.
I’ve been anticipating this game since I got to LA. It’s going to be intense. Always is after a big trade. Players on both sides want to prove their new team won out.
“It must be conflicting. If you win today, Denver’s season is over.”
“That’s the way the league works.”
“But sometimes it sucks.”
I shake my head. Her plain statement reminds me she’s younger than me and doesn’t have to put on a face for the media. I appreciate and envy it.
The past couple of weeks have been an adjustment, but she’s been a rock. Getting our new place together, holding shit down when I’m here and not, feeling like my home when I’m not sure where that is.
I turn into the parking lot of the brunch restaurant and pull into a spot. I hit the brakes harder than necessary when I see four familiar figures head inside.
Jay, Miles, Rookie, Brooke…
My chest tightens.
“What did you do?” I ask under my breath.
“They’re your friends,” she insists. Her hand squeezes mine.
I turn to take in her expression, those wide blue eyes and full, pleading lips.
“They’re guys I played with,” I correct. “I have a new team, and that’s where I’ve got to focus.”
“That’s crap.” Her even reply makes me blink. “At the all-star game, you told me you have friends across the league. Don’t let bad blood keep you apart.”
Hurt and self-disgust rise up. I haven’t told her I reached out to Jay the week of the trade.
He didn’t answer.
Probably because he blames me for what went down. He believes the rumors that it was my plan all along.
And wasn’t it?
This was always my plan. I deserve whatever Jay thinks of me. I was the one keeping secrets, the one who put myself above everything.
But I can’t tell Nova any of that because saying it out loud will only make the shittiness more real, make me question the decisions I’ve made.
“They know I’m coming?” I ask.
“No. I had Brooke make the reservation for brunch. But I’m sure they’ll be happy once they find out.”
Through the window, I see them shift into a booth, smiling and laughing.
Part of me wants to go in there.
But I’m a few hours away from a game that will clinch our playoff standings. A couple of months away from what I always wanted: a shot at a championship.
I can’t be hanging out with the Kodiaks.
Nova’s hand lands on my shoulder, her touch light but insistent. “Come on, Clay. Just for an hour.”
“I have a game to win. You staying or going?”
Her face scrunches up, her expression filled with confusion and disappointment. “I’d like to eat brunch with my friends.”
She arches a brow, and I huff out a breath.
“I’ll catch up with you later.”
She gets out of the car, and I drive off.
Nothing grounds me like a win.
The fire of competing, the thrill of victory—it’s all a reminder of why I work my ass off.
My reward isn’t only triumph.
It’s the clarity that comes with it.
The black and white of knowing what you did was right.
The game has a one-o’clock start. The arena’s full as always, with a sprinkling of Denver fans. During warmups, I cut looks at my old team. Jay doesn’t meet my eyes, but Miles nods to me.
Rookie grins. “Your girl bought me lunch,” he calls as I shoot toward our basket, the ball swishing through the net.
Of course she did. I rub a hand through my hair as I turn back to him. “Only you?”
“Would’ve been rude if she didn’t offer to get it for the other guys too.”
I shake my head and wave off the offer of a ball from one of our trainers.
Rookie comes over and fist-bumps me.
“Heard your free throw shooting’s improved,” I say.
“I get a lot more of ‘em with you gone.”
My lips twitch. Maybe seeing the guys won’t be as bad as I thought and we can still be friends.
“Wade!” one of the trainers calls. This time, I grab the ball when he sends it sailing my way.
“You’re better off,” I offer.
Rookie shakes his head. “Wouldn’t go that far.”
His half smile makes me feel guilty again.
At the start of the game, the Kodiaks starters are introduced, then our starters. I line up opposite Miles. The ball goes up, and our team gets it.
They’re overmatched by our star power. That’s clear in the first five minutes as we rack up basket after basket.
At one point, I look up into the stands at Brooke and Nova cheering side by side in different jerseys and feel the pang of regret.
They make it look so easy. Guess it is when friendship is all you have, no sports or loyalties to come between you.
Kyle, the guy who was traded for me, stops at my side. “I see why you stuck it out in Denver so long,” he says, following my gaze to Nova and Brooke. “You know all the hot girls.”