Page 55 of Cole

The third quarter proved Coach right—the opposing team came back with renewed determination. The game tightened, their lead shrinking to just four points.

Cole felt the familiar pressure building, the weight of expectation settling on his shoulders. Recently, in moments like these, he found himself reflexively offering up silent prayers, a habit from childhood that had returned despite his distance from formal faith.

God, just help me stay focused.

His eyes drifted to Annie again. She was standing now, hands clasped together as if in her own form of prayer, watching him with such belief that it steadied something inside him.

With renewed determination, Cole drove to the basket, scoring and drawing a foul. As the crowd roared, he pointed briefly toward the family section before stepping to the free-throw line.

Deep breath. Dribble. Focus. The ball left his hands and swished through the net.

When the final buzzer sounded, they’d secured a victory by eight points. Cole’s teammates surrounded him, celebrating his thirty-point performance, but his attention was already searching the stands. Annie was beaming at him, clapping enthusiastically alongside Benji and the others.

After the post-game interviews and coach’s debrief, Cole showered quickly and headed to meet his guests in the designated waiting area. Annie spotted him first, her face lighting up in a way that made the victory feel secondary.

“That was incredible,” she said as he approached, her voice soft but vibrant with excitement. “I’ve always enjoyed watching the game on television, but watching you play live...” She shook her head, seemingly at a loss for words. “Electrifying.”

Cole felt a rush of pride, different from the satisfaction of a win or praise from coaches. “Thanks. Glad I could impress you.” He turned to Benji, who was clutching a program and looking at him with undisguised awe. “What did you think, buddy?”

“That was so cool!” Benji exclaimed, his words tumbling out in excitement. “When you did that dunk in the fourth quarter and everyone went crazy—I want to learn how to do that!”

Cole laughed, reaching out to pat the teen’s shoulder. “Takes a lot of practice, but I bet you could do it someday.”

Andrew stepped forward, extending his hand. “Impressive game. Benji hasn’t stopped talking about basketball since we told him we were coming.”

“Appreciate you all making the trip,” Cole said, shaking Andrew’s hand firmly. “It means a lot.”

“You were magnificent,” Dawn said when she shook his offered hand. “Though I’m still not entirely sure what a pick and roll is, despite Annie trying to explain it three times.”

“It’s not that complicated,” Annie protested, a light blush coloring her cheeks. “You just weren’t listening.”

Cole grinned at their banter, feeling a sense of belonging wash over him. These moments—away from cameras and fans—were what he treasured most.

“You guys hungry?” he asked, checking his watch. “There’s a great place not far from here that stays open late after games.”

“Starving,” Benji announced, patting his stomach dramatically.

As they walked toward the players’ exit, Cole fell into step beside Annie. Their hands brushed accidentally, sending a current of awareness through him. He considered taking her hand, but hesitated, suddenly unsure.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Annie said quietly, her voice meant only for him. “I’ve never seen Benji so excited about anything.”

“I’m glad you came,” Cole replied, meeting her gaze. “Having you here... it changes things.”

“Changes things how?” she asked, her blue-green eyes searching his face.

Cole paused, choosing his words carefully. “Makes them better. More meaningful.”

The simple honesty in his voice seemed to touch something in her. Annie’s expression softened, and that time, when their hands brushed, she gently caught his fingers with hers. The contact was brief—just a moment of connection before she released him as they approached the exit doors—but it left Cole feeling anchored in a way he hadn’t experienced before.

Outside, cool night air greeted them. As they walked toward the restaurant, Cole found himself wondering if this was whathis parents had felt in their early days—this quiet certainty, this feeling that something important was unfolding between two people. His thoughts drifted to prayer again, not out of habit this time, but gratitude.

Thank you for bringing her into my life.

The restaurant Cole had chosen was a local favorite among players—upscale enough to feel special but casual enough that no one would raise eyebrows at post-game attire. The owner, Giuseppe, greeted Cole with a hearty handshake and led them to a secluded corner booth.

“Best table in the house for my favorite basketball family,” Giuseppe announced, his Italian accent thick with enthusiasm. “And his beautiful family.”

Cole didn’t correct the assumption. Something about it felt right, even if premature.

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