One Last Shot (Nymphs & Trojans Series Book 2)

by Alexandra Warren

  Before I could respond, there was another knock at the door, Sugar giving me a pat on the shoulder on her way to open it. And once she saw who was on the other side, she couldn’t wait to tell him, “Congratulations, papa,” Dre looking a little confused as she squeezed past him out of the door.

  “So Coach Daniels knows about the baby, huh?” he asked on his way over to the couch, taking Sugar’s seat and pulling me under his arm to rest against his chest.

  Early on, I’d teased him about how awful he’d be to cuddle with. But these days, I couldn’t get enough of it, tucking myself a little tighter into his embrace and letting the scent of his cologne soothe me as I answered, “Yeah, it just kinda came out.”

  I expected him to feel a way about me sharing the news. But to my surprise, he wasn’t all that bothered, only shrugging as he kissed the top of my head and replied, “Well she kept the secret about us smashin’. I’m assuming this won’t be any different.”

  “We can only hope,” I sighed, less concerned with the possibility of her spilling the baby beans and more concerned with what I was going to do differently next game as I gave more thought to the message she’d left me with.

  It wasn’t necessarily what I wanted to hear. But it was exactly what I needed to hear, giving me a major energy boost that I couldn’t wait to take into game four. Though it was clear Dre was still stuck on the result of game three when he asked, “You feelin’ okay?”

  “I wasn’t. But I feel a little better now,” I told him, sitting up to explain, “Sugar put some things into perspective for me.”

  Nodding, he agreed. “Yeah, she’s good for that.”

  “Better than good,” I thought, turning his way to share, “I have to leave it all out there, Dre. I mean, this could be my only chance to win a championship, and I just… I don’t wanna have any regrets.

  “Selena, you are way too fuckin’ talented for this to be your only chance at winning a championship,” he insisted with a bit of a chuckle that made me roll my eyes as I muttered, “Says the guy who won one and never even made it back to the playoffs.”

  I wasn’t trying to be mean, but the facts were the facts. No matter how easy certain dynasties made it look, returning to the finals year after year was no easy feat; let alone returning to the finals and actually winning it all. There were so many things that had to go right, so many injuries that had to be avoided, and in my opinion, the shit required a bit of luck too. But because of the complicated circumstances surrounding his non-return, it was easy for Dre to defend, “My situation was a lot different than this though.”

  “True, but still. We don’t know what this baby is gonna do to my body, if and when I’ll be back on the court, or if I’ll even be the same player. I mean, of course it would be ideal for me to have the baby and be whipped right back into top-tier player shape for next season. But the reality is, that might not happen. I may never make it back to this stage. This could be my last shot.”

  By the time I finished my spiel, there was a lump sitting in the back of my throat, the emotions of it all coursing through me as I considered every part of what I was getting ready to take on.

  Game four

  Pregnancy and giving birth.

  A comeback.

  Motherhood.

  Game four.

  It was so much to think about, so heavy of a load. But when Dre gently cupped my cheek and chin, it was as if he was letting me know I had someone I could lean on every step of the way, a determined look in his eyes when he finally replied, “So let’s make it count.”

  The phrase, “Now or never,” had never meant as much to me as it did in this moment, the National Anthem practically turning into static as I let Sugar’s pregame notes play back in my head even though tonight wasn’t really about strategy.

  No, tonight was all about instincts, about drive, about heart.

  If I played with heart, the rest would come.

  If I played like I was truly driven to do whatever it took to win, others would too.

  Everything I’d ever learned about the game was for this moment, so now wasn’t the time to overthink.

  Now was the time to just do.

  From tip-off, that was my attitude, going after everything I wanted instead of letting the game come to me. And because of that approach, we found ourselves within striking distance by halftime, only down five points after Seattle went on a bit of a run to end the second quarter.

  Honestly, I was just gassed; though I refused to come out of the game no matter how much Sugar and Dre insisted I did since there was no way in hell I was leaving even a second of this up to chance. And thanks to the extended rest at halftime, I was able to regroup, fighting for every bucket until we were tied up going into the fourth.

  Up until this point, being on their home court hadn’t felt like some crazy disadvantage. But now that we were in the final quarter and things were still extremely competitive, it seemed as if their crowd had turned up the volume a few notches, doing all sorts of chants that I did my best to drown out and play through. But unfortunately, because of the extra noise, it became a lot harder for us to communicate with each other on the floor. And with that came errors, causing me to miss Mikayla calling out a screen at half court that felt equivalent to crashing straight into a wall when I was blindsided by one of Seattle’s players from behind.

  I heard the referee blow her whistle to call an offensive foul, but it sounded so far away. I heard the murmurs of boos from the crowd in response, but none of it sounded crisp or clear. And I could hear my teammates celebrating my efforts, but it felt like I couldn’t get up to join them, huffing out shallow breaths as Mikayla stood over me and asked, “Selena, you good?”

  The nod I gave in response must not have been convincing enough since Mikayla was quick to wave over the trainers. And it wasn’t long before Ari was kneeled at my side asking me where I was hurt and advising me to breathe.

  In my head, I was breathing. In fact, the only thing I could hear were my short exhales and my fast-thumping heartbeat, choosing to focus on that when Ari asked the question again.

  “Where are you hurt, Selena?”

  Nothing in particular on my body was in real pain, so I didn’t know how to respond, only shaking my head as I worked to catch my breath. And after a couple of long blinks, Dre appeared, kneeling down next to Ari with the most worried look on his face until she told him, “I’m pretty sure that screen knocked the wind out of her. She’ll be okay. Just give her a minute.”

  Yes.

  A minute.

  “Just one minute and I’ll be good,” I thought, taking only a few seconds before I attempted to sit up. And once I was upright, there was a chorus of sympathy claps from the crowd as Ari and Dre helped me up from the ground then guided me over to the bench - the last place I wanted to be.

  There were four minutes left in the game and the only way I could ensure we’d get the win was by being out on the court to make it happen. But no matter how much water I drank, no matter how many breathing techniques I used, and no matter how hard I tried to will myself to just… be okay, my body refused to cooperate, forcing me to sit and watch as my team went into the final moments of war without me.

  Honestly, not being able to contribute hurt just as bad as a real injury would’ve; though I tried my best to stay positive as my teammates fought to gain a one-point lead going into the final twenty seconds. And now it was really now or never, Seattle calling a timeout that would advance the ball to half court and give them an opportunity to win the game on a last second shot.

  Instead of running through scenarios for what to do based on whatever play Seattle was drawing up, Sugar completely disregarded her clipboard in favor of shouting, “I want you in their faces! Leave them no room! If you need to switch, call it out! If you see a screen coming, call it out! Its loud as hell in here, but we can be louder! This game is ours to win!”

  Everyone nodded to agree, including me, even though I knew I couldn’t do anything
with the fire her speech had stoked inside of me. And I was only reminded of that fact when the buzzer sounded and I watched my teammates make their way back onto the court while I stayed on the sidelines, my nerves frazzled as Seattle set up their play before inbounding the ball.

  The clock was ticking in slow motion, though something on the court changed with every second. A player moved, the ball was passed, a screen was set to create some space. But again, because of the noise, there was a miscommunication on our end, leaving one of Seattle’s players with a wide open three-pointer that had me covering my eyes with my jersey since there was no way in hell I could actually watch that shit go in.

  Except... it didn’t go in.

  The disappointed groan from the crowd told me that. And when I pulled my jersey from my eyes, it was just in time to see Talia securing the rebound, my limbs flooded with relief when the final buzzer sounded meaning we’d pulled it out.

  We’d actually pulled it out.

  The series was now tied, and we were headed back to Nashville with only one win standing between us and the championship. And even though it was the same win Seattle was chasing - even more so now that they’d blown their chance tonight - I was feeling a little more confident about it, determined to get back in good health so that I could lead us to the ultimate victory.

  Twenty

  According to the injury report, Selena was listed as a game-time decision. But I knew there was nothing - absolutely nothing - that was going to keep her from playing in tomorrow’s game.

  Not the scare in game four.

  Not the baby growing inside of her.

  Not the “second opinion” doctor who’d suggested she play limited minutes.

  Not me.

  And somehow, that only made me love her even more; a perfect example of her fierce personality that had me intrigued from day one.

  Of course back then, she was using all that fire and passion to talk shit about my hiring; to talk shit about me in general. But since that first interaction, we’d grown to respect each other, we’d established a friendship, we’d fallen in love. So this time around, I knew it was nothing personal.

  She just wanted to win.

  And I wanted that for her.

  In fact, that was the only reason I was respecting her request to sleep alone, knowing it was an important part of her process to stay distraction-free. But when my phone buzzed in the middle of the night with a text from her that contradicted the usual, I became especially concerned, frowning as I sat up in bed to read it again.

  “Can you come over? I need you.” - SeSa

  Considering the circumstances and how late it was, I knew whatever was going on must’ve been serious. So instead of wasting time texting back and forth about the details, I hopped out of bed and typed out the only thing that mattered.

  “On my way.” - Dre

  Since I stayed closer to downtown and Selena stayed out in the suburbs, it was almost a half-hour later when I showed up. But regardless of how long I took, she was still happy to see me, falling into my arms the second I stepped inside her crib and asked, “What’s the matter, lil’ baby?”

  Because her face was buried against my chest, her words came out a little muffled. But what I was pretty sure I heard was, “I don’t know if I can do it, Dre.”

  “Do what?” I asked, a bunch of different things running through my head until she pulled her face away to clarify.

  “Play in tomorrow’s game. I don’t think I can do it.”

  My eyes went wide at that before drifting into more of a squint, knowing something must’ve really been going on for her to have come to this conclusion. And while my first thought went to her health and the baby’s, I tried not to make any assumptions, cupping her face to ask, “Why not? What’s wrong?”

  She wouldn’t look me in the eyes and that only made my concern skyrocket, watching as she gnawed at her lip before she finally glanced back my way to quietly admit, “I’m too afraid.”

  Her vulnerability struck me deep, knowing it had never been all that easy for her to be open. But the fact that she’d come to me about it spoke volumes. And now that the door to her thoughts was already cracked, I decided to step right in and ask, “Too afraid of what?”

  “Of failing, losing, hurting myself or the baby, having an irremovable stain on my legacy,” she listed. “There’s just so much riding on this one moment in time. I don’t know if I can handle the pressure.”

  It was an honest place to be in, letting a tiny drip of uncertainty turn into a full-blown flood the longer you let it run through your head. But even with that, I knew she was still at an advantage, moving my hands to her waist so that I could wrap her in a hug and remind her, “Selena, you’ve been working towards this one moment for your entire life. And I know it feels like everything is stacked against you right now, but… this is when you really get to show what you’re made of. Not when everything is coming easy and going right, but when shit gets so hard to the point of feeling borderline impossible.”

  “I’d much rather it be easy and going right,” she muttered with a subtle roll of her eyes, making me chuckle as I agreed, “We all would, lil’ baby. But that’s not the reality. The reality is, the shit we want more than anything is usually the shit we have to work the hardest for. And sometimes, that work is more mental than physical cause the physical part is already in you. Baby or no baby, you know how to ball.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was the mention of the baby or the mention of her being a baller. But either way, my words made her crack a smirk when she nodded to reply, “You’re right. I’m trippin’. It’s your child’s fault. Has me all in my feelings.”

  Again, I chuckled. “Nah, leave my baby outta this. This is between mom and dad,” I told her, the title “dad” making my chest warm as I thought about everything it represented.

  It was the greatest responsibility; giving me new purpose, yet another reason for me to continue to fight old habits, something else to live for and look forward to. And as I looked down at the woman who was making that possible, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude; though she was the one to actually express it when she said, “Thank you for always showing up for me, Dre. It means more than you’ll ever know.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way, SeSa,” I replied with a kiss to her forehead. “Now let me get outta here so you can get some sleep. I know how you are about your routine.”

  I was already making a move for the door when she caught me by the arm to say, “Actually, I’d love it if you stayed. I could use some of those infamous cuddles.”

  Naturally, my eyebrow piqued at her request. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, I don’t want you blaming me for throwing you off if, for whatever reason, shit goes wrong tomorrow.”

  The possibility only made her shrug, taking full responsibility when she pulled me closer and replied, “Nah, tomorrow will be all on me. Tonight, I just want you.”

  With that, there was nothing more to be said, Selena leading the way towards her bedroom where she climbed into bed then waited for me to get rid of my clothes so I could join her. And once I did, I quickly learned she wasn’t lying about her desire for my cuddles, hardly settled into the perfect resting spot spooned against me before I heard the soft murmurs of her snoring.

  In this moment though, there was no sound in the world I’d rather here, nowhere in the world I’d rather be. So with a kiss to the back of her head, I whispered, “Love you, lil’ baby” before dozing off to sleep.

  The moment had come.

  Winner-take-all game five.

  A chance to make history.

  And my last game coaching for the Nymphs.

  I hadn’t shared the details of that with Selena just yet since there was already enough on her plate and she needed to stay focused. But with the news of the baby, taking the Trojans job was a no-brainer; especially since Selena would be missing the overseas season and then only be receiving a partial salary from the WNBA until she returned.
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  Honestly, I didn’t want her to have to rush. Even with her potential endorsement money, I wanted her to be good regardless; wanted us to be comfortable regardless. And with the extra money I’d make with the jump from the WNBA to the NBA, I could guarantee both of those things; though a jump to the Trojans also meant dealing with the likes of Kage Steele who’d just shown up to the game rocking my girl’s jersey.

  Crazy enough, I wasn’t even mad at him. Selena was unbiasedly the best, and if I was just a normal fan of the team, I’d probably be wearing her shit too. So instead of reading into his choice of attire too deeply, I gave him a, “What’s up” nod on my way to the locker room and kept it pushing, glad when he did the same thing back without any extra fanfare.

  The simple interaction had me thinking the upcoming season might not be so bad after all. But for now, that was going in the back of my mind since tonight was all about the Nymphs, all about Selena, all about finishing the job and getting that title. And when I saw my girl sitting in her locker spot with her game face on, I knew shit was about to get real as we both listened to Sugar’s pregame speech, got hyped with Mikayla, then stayed back for our little handshake and kiss ritual before Selena took off to follow the team.

  At least, that’s what I thought she was doing until she stopped at the door, turning back my way to say, “Oh, and Dre?”

  Lifting my eyebrows as if to ask, “What?” I was surprised when she responded with a grin, completely out of the ordinary for moments like this. But it made sense in combination with the words that caught me even more off-guard, my chest tight when she gushed, “I love you too.”

  When I said it last night, I assumed she was asleep and didn’t hear me. But now that I knew she had and that she felt the same way, today felt even more special, a smile on my lips as I told her, “Go get what’s yours.”