King of the Court

by Melanie Munton

  We laid there in silence for an interminable amount of time, just comfortable holding each other and not saying anything at all. If I hadn’t felt the gentle sweeping of his fingers across my shoulder, I would have thought he’d fallen asleep.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the game tomorrow,” I said timidly.

  “What about it?”

  My finger traced shapes around his right pec. “I’m just worried about you playing against Trey.”

  He leaned back, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Are you worried that he’s going to do something or that I will?”

  My eyes flew over his face. “Just that things might get out of control. Look what happened the last time you two played against each other, and that was before the fight. Can you really tell me you won’t want to hit him at some point during the game?”

  “Of course, I’ll want to hit him,” he bit out. “I always want to hit that son of a bitch. But the fight at the party was payback for what he did to you. I wouldn’t have attacked him out of the blue like that if he hadn’t done something to provoke it.”

  “And you know he’s going to try and get in your head about it tomorrow,” I insisted. “That’s what you said he did during the BelV game. He talked trash about me and you lost it. You know he’s going to do something like that tomorrow night.”

  “Whether he does or doesn’t is irrelevant because I’ll control myself this time.”

  I knew my expression reflected doubt. “What makes this time different?”

  He kissed me hard and deep, swallowing my surprised gasp. When he pulled back, my eyes felt pleasantly heavier. “This time is different because I have you. Things were so back and forth between us back then, I didn’t know where we stood. I was pretty messed up over it. And when Warren started talking shit, I couldn’t help it. I guess you could say I had some insecurities.”

  “But you don’t now?”

  “How could I?” he asked, bemused. “I know now that you’re mine and no one else’s. We’re solid about where we are, right?” I nodded, grinning. “Then there isn’t anything to worry about or be insecure over. Sure, Warren will try to piss me off, but there’s nothing he could say that would make me doubt us.”

  My chest felt like a million helium balloons had been stuffed into it, threatening to send me floating away.

  “You can be pretty romantic when you want to be, you know.”

  “Don’t get used to it. I’m still going to talk to dirty to you and make filthy innuendos.”

  “I won’t complain.”

  He sighed contentedly. “You’re pretty much perfect, you know.”

  I closed my eyes and savored the sound of his heart beating in my ear. “Yeah. I know.”

  46

  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.

  47

  Reese

  I wasn’t sure what was currently going through Cam’s head, but I was scared shitless. For him.

  The fate of the game could very well depend on what Gus and I determined the problem was.

  No pressure or anything.

  “I got it,” he grumbled as we helped him onto the exam table.

  “All right,” I said gravely, “you have to be honest with us. What did it feel like when you went down, and how bad is the pain now?”

  He propped himself up on his elbows. “It was a sharp pain, almost different levels of sharpness as I went down.” He let out a frustrated grunt. “That probably doesn’t make any sense. Look, it hurt like a son of a bitch, but there wasn’t a pop so I know it’s not ruptured.”

  “It doesn’t always feel like a popping sensation,” I said gently. “We may not be dealing with just a partial tear anymore.”

  I’d informed Gus of Cam’s injury before the start of the tournament—made him promise to keep it to himself—so he wasn’t surprised to hear any of this.

  “Tear or not,” Cam growled, “I’m going back out there and finishing the game. If I have to do it on one leg, I will.”

  His eyes were challenging as they gazed at me, refusing to back down.

  “And how’s the pain now?” Gus asked.

  “About a six,” Cam answered. I shot him a look and he sighed. “Okay, maybe a seven, but I can manage a seven.”

  “Cam, it could shoot up to a ten as soon as you step back out on that court,” I said. “Then you won’t have a choice. You’ll have to sit.”

  “But I’m not there yet,” he retorted. “I’m playing and that’s that. If either of you want to stop me, I dare you to try.”

  In any other situation, I’d have said that I would have been able to change his mind. But this was something I knew I wouldn’t have any say in. This was what he’d been working toward for five years, and it was important to him. I couldn’t stand in his way.

  I looked to Gus. “What do you suggest?”

  “You mean if he plays?” I nodded. “Well, I’d wrap the hell out of that knee, as tight as he could stand it. He’ll probably want a shot of Toradol, too, for the pain.”

  “What’s that?” Cam asked.

  “It’s a painkiller and anti-inflammatory,” Gus replied. “It won’t totally numb the area, but it will make the pain a little more bearable.”

  Cam nodded. “Do it.”

  I worked on wrapping his knee as Gus administered the injection. Cam was bending and straightening his knee, testing the wrapping job, when we heard the buzzer sound, ending the third quarter.

  Gus headed for the door. “I’ll go let Coach know you’re coming back for the fourth quarter.”

  “We’ll be out in just a sec,” I called
.

  The door shut behind him, leaving us completely alone in the quiet room.

  “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” I pleaded.

  He chuckled. “Because then you wouldn’t love me.”

  “False. There’s plenty of other parts of you to love, without you being so damn headstrong.”

  He scooted toward the end of the table and pulled me into him by the hips. “Hm. Sounds like someone else I know.”

  I laughed reluctantly. Looking at him there on that table, covered in sweat, his hair a mess, I had never loved him more. And even though, yes, his stubbornness did drive me crazy most of the time, it was also part of what made him irresistible. He just cared too much. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t give me grief about anything and where would the sport be in that? What kind of fun would that be?

  “Will you promise to be careful out there?” I asked.

  His face softened as he pushed my hair off my face. “You don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m your girlfriend and your trainer. It’s my job to worry.”

  He smiled. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”

  “Can you just tell me you’ll come out of this game in one piece? You know Trey will be gunning for you even more now.”

  His nostrils flared at the mention of Trey. “Believe me. That asshole isn’t going to break me. I promise, sweetheart. I’ll make it out of this in one piece. And when I take you to bed tonight, all parts of me will be one hundred percent functional.”

  He didn’t give me a chance to respond. His mouth covered mine in a fast, but no less devastating, kiss. His tongue speared into my mouth for several seconds, turning my legs to jelly, before he pulled back.

  “I need to get back out there. The quarter should be starting soon.”

  “Right.”

  He walked out of the room and back down the tunnel on his own, but it took him quite a few steps to get used to the stiffness of the wrap. Once he got used to it he hobbled, but I expected nothing else for the rest of the game. It would be super uncomfortable for him, and assuming nothing else happened, he’d most definitely being limping painfully by the end of the game.