Without breaking stride, I shrugged and answered, “Because I already knew what you were going to say, and I wasn’t tryna hear that shit first thing in the morning.”
Of course that didn’t make her happy, her scowl tight when she growled, “I’m your employer, Dre. You don’t get to just blow me off.”
“Well as my employer, you also don’t get to harass me about my personal life. So where do we go from here?” I asked, stopping to see her face that was twisted up with all sorts of unnecessary anger and annoyance that kept her from responding right away.
Instead of adding more fuel to the flame, I put a hand to her shoulder to say, “Look, Kat. Your franchise is three wins away from making you the youngest owner with a championship-winning team in all of professional sports. Let’s just focus on that, aight?”
I could tell she wanted to say more on the subject of Selena and I. But because the rest of the team and staff were slowly beginning to show up, she didn’t, giving me an unenthusiastic nod before pulling away to greet them all with a plastered-on smile. And since I was standing there, I did the same, surprised that Mikayla was the only one to mention what was happening on the internet when she said, “Sorry about the poll, Coach. If I would’ve known it’d become the talk of the finals, I would’ve never done it.”
With a nod, I replied, “I appreciate that, Mik. But it’s not your fault. People were gonna talk regardless.”
“True,” she agreed with a nod of her own. “But just know, if anybody tries either one of y’all, I’m ready to go to war. Y’all are like family to me now, and no one messes with my family.”
Considering Mikayla was known for being goofy as hell, it was interesting to see how serious she was about this, yet another thing I could appreciate as I dapped her up and said, “You a real one, Mik.”
Receiving the love, she left me with a supportive pat to my shoulder, clearing the way for Selena who’d just squeezed into the door with her hood tied tightly over her head like she was trying to be incognito. And after stopping to have a quick word with Kat about who knows what, she made her way over to me, all smiles as she gave a friendly, “Hey, big baby.”
“Hey yourself,” I replied, giving her an innocent shoulder hug before asking, “You okay? They didn’t do you too bad out there, did they?”
Shrugging, she loosened her hood and pushed it from her head, showing off the pair of AirPods she had in when she answered, “I had Jayde playing in my ears. So even if they did, I missed it thanks to the honky tonk bullshit I know you secretly love so much.”
“Smart move,” I told her, checking out the two new French braids she was rockin’ before I complimented, “I’m feelin’ this hair though.”
There was something sexy and simple yet bad-ass about the look, giving her an extra edge that was softened for the moment when she explained, “Ari came over a little after you called this morning to hook me up.”
“Oh, so she gets to interrupt your game day routine, but I can’t?”
Chuckling, she made a move towards the locker room and insisted, “I couldn’t be out here lookin’ raggedy on the big stage, Dre.”
“You never look raggedy, Selena.”
“You’re supposed to say that,” she gushed, stopping at the locker room doors to put a hand to my arm and add, “But it’s appreciated.”
We usually didn’t get to have these kinds of moments before games, forced to stay lowkey so we wouldn’t tell on ourselves. But now that everything was out in the open, I was taking advantage, grabbing her by the chin when I told her, “Hey. Whatever happens tonight, just know I’m already proud of you. Unless you lose, then…”
“Don’t play with me, Dre,” she giggled before snatching out of my hold with a heavy sigh. “Honestly, though. I’ve never felt like this before. Never felt like I was playing for something so much bigger than me.”
Even though I knew she’d competed in high stakes games before back in college, doing it on a professional level was new territory, bringing its own set of worries that I did my best to address when I advised, “No need to add any extra pressure to yourself, Selena. Just do what you know best and let the universe handle the rest.”
That must’ve been exactly what she needed to hear, her facial expression transforming from one of uncertainty to one of determination right before eyes as she gave a nod before heading into the locker room to get dressed. And from there it was all business, Selena locked in as she ran through her usual pregame routine with that same energy and let it carry into the game that was something like her personal highlight reel.
I mean, the girl was everywhere. Making tough shots on offense, going after every rebound, diving on the floor for loose balls. She was playing scrappy without being out of control. She was talking shit and backing it up. And most importantly, she was being a leader on the floor, directing people to their right positions, giving little tips during every timeout, checking her teammates whenever they started to complain but also the first to give praise whenever something good happened.
As coaches, we couldn’t have asked for anything more from her. But somehow, she still found more to give, doing any and everything necessary for the Nymphs to win game one. And as I stood off to the side watching her prepare to do her postgame courtside interview with Bleu Taylor, I was literally beaming with pride until Selena randomly rushed off the makeshift set with her hand over her mouth.
Like I would know what was going on, Bleu shot me a look of confusion that I met with a similar look before taking off after Selena down the tunnel, catching up to see her just as she bent the corner into the training room. And by the time I actually made it into the room, she was already leaning over a trash can with Ari rubbing her back, getting rid of what looked like breakfast and lunch along with the Gatorade she’d sipped on throughout the game.
Now I was really worried.
Had all that extra work she’d put in tonight caught up to her?
Was she coming down with something?
Did this have anything to do with how tired she was during the semi-finals?
So many questions ran through my mind. But with Selena still dry-heaving, I knew I wouldn’t be able to get an answer right away, instead stepping in to takeover for Ari who quietly said, “I’m gonna leave you two to talk.”
Her calmness was eerie, almost like she already knew more than I did about what was going on with my girl. And that only made my anxiety skyrocket as I rubbed Selena’s back and demanded, “Baby, tell me what’s goin’ on.”
She didn’t respond with words, only stood up and moved to a nearby sink to rinse her mouth with water. And by the time she was finished, she already had tears in her eyes, the unfamiliar sight making my heart pound as I watched her gnaw on her lip before she pushed out, “Dre, I’m… we’re… pregnant.”
“What?”
Through her cries, she rushed out, “I know. It’s crazy. And what shitty timing, but…”
“You’re pregnant?” I asked, still in shock as she moved my way with a slow nod.
“I’m pregnant, Dre. Six weeks. Or I guess more like seven now…” she replied, averting her eyes like she really had to think about it.
Either way, I still had plenty more questions, starting with, “How long have you known?”
“Not long at all,” she answered. “I found out right around the same time you were traveling between here and St. Louis. Ari set me up with a doctor, and…”
“So she knew before I did?” I asked, her immediate nod in response making sense of Ari’s calm demeanor from earlier.
“I didn’t want you to freak out. I didn’t want… any of this. I just wanted to play these games and deal with it later. But clearly the baby disagrees with that plan since, well, here we are.”
For the first time in a while, it felt like time was standing still as I tried to process everything she was saying - that she was pregnant, with my child, now two wins away from one of her ultimate life goals. She’d carried that big ass sec
ret into today, and balled her ass off, even through the drama of our relationship going public. And she’d planned on keeping it that way until after the finals; not to be malicious, but to protect me from freaking out as if it was even possible for her not to have gone through the ringer of emotions on her own when she first found out.
Honestly, the shit had me blown away on so many levels. But apparently, I was too into my head about it all since Selena moved to stand directly in front of me and urged, “Dre, say something.”
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I struggled to find the words. “I’m just… wow. A baby. We’re having a baby. I mean, if that’s what you want of course.”
It would’ve been a little selfish of me to assume her plans since it was her body, her career, her… everything on the line. But I also would’ve been lying if I didn’t admit how relieved I was to watch her nod and reply, “Yes. It’s what I want, Dre.”
My shoulders sank, but only a little since our circumstances were a bit more complicated than that. Even if it came first on the priority list, I wasn’t in Selena’s life as just her boyfriend. And because of that fact, I had to ask, “But how are you gonna keep playing?”
Like I’d asked a stupid question, she frowned. “What do you mean? The same way I did tonight.”
Thinking back on just how hard she’d gone, along with the way her body had reacted to it after the fact, I felt even more protective than normal when I questioned, “That can’t be safe, can it?”
With an enthusiastic nod, she gushed, “Completely. The doctor I went to already cleared me to do so as long as we continue to monitor everything.”
“Nah, we need a second opinion,” I urged, Selena somehow finding room to chuckle and sniffle all at once even though I was dead serious.
I wasn’t taking any chances no matter how many facts Selena dropped after asking, “Will you relax? Women compete pregnant all the time; run marathons, play volleyball, swim. Hell, when Serena won the Australian Open, she was even further along than I am.”
“Everything you just said doesn’t involve contact, Selena. And we’re not talking about some shootaround in the backyard with friends. We’re talking about the WNBA finals. The intensity is on a whole ‘nother level.”
We were only one game in, but I wasn’t sure if I could take watching Selena put herself through all this for another two to four depending on how the series went. But I quickly realized it wasn’t up to me when she ranted, “Nothing is keeping me from this moment, Dre. I don’t care if I have to puke between quarters, receive oxygen at halftime, and get an IV drip after games. I’ve worked too damn hard to stop now. I’m… I’m too close to the finish line.”
Saying it out loud made her burst into more tears, falling into my arms for a hug that I wrapped her in tightly as I told her, “Shhh… it’s okay, lil’ baby. I got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Because of the way her face was buried against my chest, her sobs quieted a little, her voice muffled when she cried, “This just wasn’t in my plans. And I’m sure it wasn’t in yours either, but…”
“Doesn’t matter,” I interrupted. “It’s happenin’, and we’re gonna be just fine. You, me, and our baby will be fine. I got us.”
Whether she believed me or not, she accepted it for now, relishing in my embrace as I kissed the top of her head and repeated, “I got us.” And that was enough to bring her quiet sobs to more of a murmur, leaving me with a lot to consider as far as my future with the Nymphs went.
Nineteen
Game two left me questioning everything.
We’d gotten blown out on our home court, tying the series at one with the odds in our opponent’s favor since the next two games would be on their home floor in Seattle. And honestly, just the thought of traveling out there had me exhausted, wondering if it was really all that worth it to keep pushing myself to the limit like this; wondering if it was the best decision for my and the baby’s health even if the doctor claimed I couldn’t cause any real harm.
On a medical level, maybe not. But mentally, I just… wasn’t as convinced, sitting with that uncertainty the entire trip to Seattle. And even when we were on the court the next day, ready to fight and take back the lead in the series, I couldn’t shake it, making a bunch of uncharacteristic mistakes during the first quarter that had Sugar on my neck trying to talk some sense into me.
If only she knew.
By halftime, we were down by double digits and I took most of the blame by default since I was the one who was supposed to be leading the charge, controlling the tempo, bringing the intensity and getting everyone on my level. But tonight, I just didn’t have it in me. And because I didn’t have it, we quickly found ourselves down two to one in the series against a now very confident Seattle team.
I was sick.
Everything I’d worked so hard for was in arms reach and I was coming up short. I was giving as much as I had, and it still wasn’t nearly enough. I was… failing on so many levels by not capitalizing on the physical sacrifice I was making to compete. And with every game, I could tell Dre was becoming a little less confident in my decision to continue playing, making me second guess myself with a do-or-die game four on the horizon.
Was it worth it?
The question played over and over again in my head as I sat in my hotel room weighing the pros and cons, a knock on the door the only thing stopping me from making an actual handwritten list. But when I took a look through the peephole, I was a little surprised to see who was on the other side, skeptical as I pulled it open and asked, “What’s up, Coach?”
“Let’s talk, Sharpie,” Sugar replied, inviting herself in before I could do it myself. And because she was on the shortlist of people - read: her, Dre, and Ari - who could do so and get away with it, I closed the door behind us and followed her over to the couch she’d already made herself comfortable on, not all that surprised when she got straight to the point of her visit.
“Tell me what’s going on with you.”
Shrugging, I lied, “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just lost my mojo.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Selena. I’ve seen games where you haven’t played your best basketball, and this isn’t that. This is something different.”
She was right.
This was something different.
Unchartered territory that had me releasing a heavy sigh before I gave her a generic explanation. “I’m just really in my head about a lot of things right now, Sugar. But don’t worry. I promise I’ll be ready for game four.”
To me, it sounded like a solid enough response. But Sugar read right through it, putting a hand to my knee to suggest, “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
On a surface level, there were plenty of things I’d feel comfortable talking to Sugar about. But unfortunately, this wasn’t one of them, forcing me to put on a brave face as I nodded to reply, “I appreciate that, Coach. But I’m fine, really.”
Once again, I expected that to be good enough for her to leave it alone. And once again, I was wrong as hell, Sugar popping up from her seat to snap, “Selena, you don’t have to be so damn tough all the time. I mean, it’s obvious you’re trying to hold everything in, carry the world on your shoulders, look like you have it all together. But I can tell you don’t. We can all tell you don’t.”
Frowning, I asked, “Who’s we?”
“That’s not the point,” she groaned, squatting down in front of me to say, “The point is that, whatever you’re bottling up is showing out there on the court whether you like it or not. So you might as well just free yourself and let it out.”
I don’t know if it was her words, or her intense gaze, or a combination of both. But either way, the truth came out like vomit when I blurted, “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh shit,” Sugar hissed, moving back to her seat next to mine where she asked, “How pregnant are we talking here, Selena?”
“Around seven-ish weeks now.”
“And the father is…?” sh
e trailed, leaving a blank for me to fill-in like it was even a question.
In fact, I found myself a little annoyed about it when I replied, “I think you know the answer to that, Sugar.”
As if that part was still news to her, she gave a surprised, “Wow,” standing up to pace the room and repeat, “Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow,” before finally stopping in front of me to ask, “Okay, well what can I do to support you?”
It wasn’t the response I expected, so I was a little caught off-guard by the question, gnawing on my lip before I pushed out, “Umm… let’s start with not telling anyone. I don’t want the pity. I don’t wanna be used an excuse. I just wanna ball. I wanna win.”
With how heavy it had been on my mind before she showed up, speaking it out loud made me emotional all over again. But I appreciated Sugar doing her best to put me at ease when she agreed, “So let’s just do that then. Let’s go out, get this next win, and force a game five in Nashville. Then we’ll win that one, get the title we both want, and you and Dre and the baby can live happily ever after.”
Her plan sounded perfect, but it also didn’t seem rooted in reality, a frown on my face as I pouted, “Easier said than done, Sugar. I mean, you’ve seen how I’ve played these last two games. I don’t know if I have anything left.”
It was like I was running on fumes, and not just physically. There was no gas in my emotional tank, nothing left to fuel my mental tank. Everything was exhausted, ready to shut down if I went on any longer. But according to Sugar’s response, I was exactly where I was supposed to be, a bit of a grin on her face when she explained, “Pregnant or not, no championship is easy to win. You have to dig deeper than you’ve ever had to before, invest double the amount of blood, sweat, and tears, leave it all on the court. I mean, it’s either that or regret not doing so for the rest of your life, and I know you don’t want that.”
Just the thought made me mad at myself for even considering throwing in the towel. That wasn’t who I was, what I stood for, nor who I was raised to be. And that attitude wasn’t what had gotten me here, so why in the hell did I think it would keep me here? How could I let my confidence in my abilities begin to waver and somehow still expect the same level of success?
One Last Shot (Nymphs & Trojans Series Book 2) Page 19
