On The Rebound (Steinbeck U #1) - L.A. Cotton Page 0,112

get to SU?”

“The goal?” He smiled at the camera. “I’m going all the way, baby. Straight to the motherfucking NBA. Shit, can I say that? Or will you guys need to edit that out?”

Quiet laughter rippled through the arena. It was too dark to see Zach’s face, or my brother’s.

“It’s a tribute,” Josie whispered, clutching my hand in hers. A lump formed in my throat as the video montage cut to some Scorpion game footage. Declan had the ball right at the top of the key. He took the shot, and the ball sank clean through the hoop. The crowd on the video went wild but it wasn’t just them. It was us. Everyone around me clapped and cheered, chanting Declan’s name as if their chorus would carry on the wind and reach him.

By the time the video ended, and the lights came back on, there wasn’t a dry eye in the building. Mine included.

“That was... intense,” Josie said, and I nodded. But I was too fixated on the man moving toward center court.

Timothy Messiah.

Zach and Declan’s father.

Coach Baxter greeted him, the two of them shaking hands.

“I want to thank you all for coming out here this afternoon,” Coach Baxter started. “And thank you to Victoria Penderton for such a moving tribute to one of the best damn players this team has ever seen.

“Let me tell you something about Declan Messiah. He isn’t a good player. He isn’t even a great player. He’s the kind of player that you remember. It isn’t just his skill on the court, it’s his leadership on and off it too.” He dragged in a shaky breath. “This team has had a run of bad luck over the last couple of seasons. It’s even been dubbed the Scorpion curse. But I’m not a superstitious man. I’m a man who believes in making your own destiny. Declan might not be here to lead our team to the championship this year, but I don’t doubt for a second, that he’s here in spirit. Now before we get this show on the road and raise what I hope will be a great amount for the Cali Institute of Brain and Spinal Injuries, Declan’s father, Timothy Messiah, would like to say a few words.”

Coach Baxter handed him the mic and clasped him on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Coach. When Victoria suggested we host an exhibition game, I’ll be honest, I was a little apprehensive. But seeing you all here, to support my boy,” he swallowed hard, “well it just means the world to me and Debra. Declan was a bright kid. Always had a ball in his hand and a Twizzler hanging out of his mouth. At one point, I didn’t know what he loved more: playing basketball or eating those damn candy sticks. But it didn’t take long to realize he was going to continue the Messiah legacy...”

His voice became white noise as I watched Zach watching his dad. His expression was like steel. Cold and unmoving.

My heart ached for him. He’d been brought here and handed Declan’s team because his parents couldn’t let go of Declan’s dream. Mr. Messiah couldn’t accept that his eldest son wasn’t going to continue his legacy, so he handed that responsibility to Zach.

It was a mess.

As if he felt me watching, Zach glanced over his shoulder and for the briefest moment, our eyes connected. I felt his pain. It slammed into me, flooding my veins. This wasn’t his dream—it was theirs.

No sooner had our eyes met did the arena explode with applause and Mr. Messiah melted into the crowd to join his wife.

The players swarmed the court, moving into position.

“Hey, are you okay?”

I glanced at Jasmine and forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

“You’re crying.”

Bringing my fingers to my face, I felt the wetness there. “They’re just happy tears,” I lied.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” she whispered, lacing her arm through mine and we sat there, two girls uncertain of their path in life, scared to take a leap.

But when I looked down at Jasmine again, I realized we weren’t the same at all. Her eyes were alight with excitement as she watched the game. Every time Zach got the ball she leaned forward, cheering him on, and when he scored, she almost leaped out of her seat. Basketball was in her blood, she just had to chase her dream. To grab it with both hands and go after it.

I’d given up my dream. So overcome with grief at losing my mom, I’d given up