On The Rebound (Steinbeck U #1) - L.A. Cotton Page 0,111
to know that this is real.” My hand slipped to her chest, right over her heart. “Feels pretty real to me,” I whispered, reveling in the steady beat of her heart beneath my fingers.
“Promise me, this is it?” Calli’s voice cracked with uncertainty. “Promise me you won’t break my heart again.” She leaned in, pressing her lips against mine. “Because I don’t think I’d survive it.”
“I promise, Calli. I promise.”
Calli
“You’re doing it again,” Jasmine said, failing to hide her irritation.
“Sorry, I’m a little restless.”
“A little?” She balked. “Your leg hasn’t stopped trembling since we got here.”
“It’s just so... big.” I glanced around the Nixon Arena.
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know... something smaller.”
“This is the Nixon Arena,” Joseph leaned around her. “Built in the sixties, it holds eleven thousand, two hundred, and ten people, and it’s a sellout.”
“Dude,” Jasmine looked impressed, “how do you know all of this shi—stuff?”
I smothered a chuckle. It was nice to see her so relaxed. There had been a second when Maureen and I had ushered the kids inside, that Jasmine had gone quiet and withdrawn. But as soon as we found our seats—which were right on the center line a few rows back from the front—she’d settled.
“Calli, there you are.” Josie waved, climbing over the other people in our row. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I got held up.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked, very aware of our little eavesdropper.
“Fine.” She flashed me a blinding smile. “And this must be Zach’s protégé. Elsa, was it?”
Jasmine flushed and her eyes dipped. “Only Zach calls me that.”
“She’s only joking, aren’t you, Jos?” I pinned her with a serious look.
“Of course. It’s nice to meet you, Jasmine. Who are your friends?”
“I’m Joseph, but you can call me J.” He winked at her.
“Whoa there, kid, you have some serious swagger.”
“Don’t let it go to your head, J,” Maureen teased. “You’re fifteen. You got some growing to do yet.”
“Hey, I’m grown.” He suddenly seemed very childlike, shrinking into his seat.
“Give it a couple of years and you’ll have all the girls eating out the palm of your hand.” Josie winked at him and I nudged her in the ribs. “What?” She frowned.
“Never mind. Oh look, there they are.” I pointed at the team who were jogging onto the court. It was impossible to miss Zach, the invisible tether linking us knew exactly where to find him.
“You have a little drool,” Jasmine snickered.
“You did not just—”
“High five, girlfriend.” Josie leaned around me and the two of them high fived.
“What the hell is happening right now?”
“She’s cool,” Jasmine said. “I like her.”
“Of course you do,” I grumbled beneath my breath.
“Jealous?” Josie mouthed at me. But then everyone started cheering as the alumni players entered the court. “Holy hotness.” She fanned herself.
Jasmine glanced around me again, but I covered her eyes. “Ignore Josie, she’s just—”
“Thirsty. Sweet baby Jesus, I’m thirsty.”
“Josie!”
“Relax, she doesn’t know what thirsty means.”
“Yes, I do. It means when a—”
“Okay, why don’t you and the boys start on the snacks?” I thrust a packet of Swedish Fish at her.
“Your boy looks good out there,” Josie whispered out of the vicinity of eager ears.
But it wasn’t Zach who had my attention.
“Does Callum look okay to you?” I said.
“Callum?”
“Yeah.”
Zach had planted a seed inside my chest last night, and I couldn’t take my eyes off my brother. It was the first time I’d seen him on the court in years. He’d always looked so at home out there, so free. But not today. Today, he looked so lost, I wanted to go down there and hug him.
The thought was disarming to say the least.
“Calli?”
“I’m okay.” I gave Josie a reassuring smile despite the pit in my stomach.
The teams shook hands and both Zach and Maverick converged in the center to talk to the referee. They shared a joke, fist bumped, and then moved to their respective sides of the court.
The lights dimmed, plunging the arena into darkness. “What the hell?” Josie whispered just as the huge screen flickered to life.
“Oh my god,” I grabbed her arm, rendered speechless at the huge image of Declan’s face. But it wasn’t an image at all, it was an amateur movie.
“Why do you love basketball so much, Dec?” the person off camera said.
“There’s nothing better than the feel of snatching the ball and just taking off, you know?” He sliced his hand through the air, a goofy grin plastered on his face. “Those few moments before you make the shot... It’s the best kind of high.”