That question tormented me in so many ways. I wasnotokay. Like I told Deke, I was in shambles, and I meant that in every sense of the word. My heart, my mind, my body—all of me was so bleak and broken.
And maybe that was why I ran from him. Maybe that was why I was so scared of what was budding between us. Because I didn’t want someone soperfectto see how fucked up I truly was.
It’d taken a while for me to fully commit to Lewis, when we first met. I didn’t feel like it was real or like my relationship with him was something I could keep. Even after we married, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, just like it had with my dad, and it came stomping down when he was diagnosed with cancer.
To me, that was all the proof I needed to know I was better off alone. Why suffer if I didn’t have to? Hell, I’d suffered enough. I didn’t think I could share that side of me with another man again. I kept saying this, but it was true. Deke deserved better than me.Lewisdeserved better than me.
Like a light bulb flashing above my head, a clear realization hit me, and my mind circled back to one of the last things my husband had said:“I love you, Vina Boo. But I know you, and I don’t want you shutting the world out when I’m gone.”
Lewis had seen how lonely I was after his diagnosis, how isolated I felt, how tired I was. He saw me move at lightning speed just to makesure he’d survive. He saweverythingI couldn’t see. Now it made sense why he said those things the night he died. He was trying to save me frommyself.
A door closed from a distance, and after hearing footsteps drift through the house, I picked my head up and spotted my sister through bleary eyes.
“Mama! Why did you make her cry?” Octavia exclaimed, frowning at Mama. “She just got here!”
Mama laughed, rubbing my back in soothing circles. “She’s just processing a few things. Right, Vina?”
I smiled up at my mom, and she returned a warm smile.
“Yeah.” I sniffed. “That’s right.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
DEKE
The Ravens lost the first official game of the season, and it was because of me.
Afterward, I had to sit behind a table with reporters in my face, telling them I’d messed up—that I had a lack of sleep or something—just to cover my own ass. My coaches were pissed, and my teammates hardly recognized me on the court. So many faces in that stadium looked up to me, all for me to fail them.
After fulfilling my part with the media after the game, I went straight home. I wasn’t in the mood to sign autographs or make conversation. Coach could shout at me the next day. I just wanted to go home.
Justin tossed a wave at me as I approached my condo building, and I waved back. “Heads up,” he said with a smile. The smile meant someone that I actually liked was visiting.
“Thanks, Justin.”
“Hey,” Justin called, and I stopped next to him. “You okay?” He studied my face, his peppery eyebrows stitching together.
I studied his black vest and the gold name tag at the heart of it, and for a split second I wished I could be like Justin. Living an ordinary life with a happy wife and family he’d built. Smiling through each day as if he had everything he needed in the world. Maybe he did.
I’d thought when I got into the NBA, it would solve all my problems. If anything, all the money and the fame had made things worse.
I forced a smile and capped his shoulder. “All good, J.”
I walked away, before he could look at me a second longer, and took the elevator up, the key to my condo already in my hand. I unlocked the door, and as soon as I stepped inside, Zeke dashed across the penthouse and threw his front paws on me.
I closed the door, rubbing his head and giving him a good scratch behind the ears. I noticed all the lights were on and the curtains were drawn, despite it being dark outside, and sitting on the sofa was none other than my sister Whitney.
She’d gotten the key to my condo a few weeks ago so she could feed Zeke while I was traveling. She also needed a place to crash in ATL for a couple of days while searching for properties to renovate, so I offered her mine. That was weeks ago, though, so I didn’t understand why she was still lingering around.
“What are you doing here, Whit?” I dropped my keys onto the counter and let my gym bag hit the floor. The black-and-red T-shirt peeked through the open zipper, and I tried not to frown at it.
The general manager had gotten the players shirts with our numbers on them that we could take home. The number seventeen stared up at me. I lowered down to zip the bag and hide it.
“How about aHello? How are you? I miss you, sis?” Whitney stood up, walking around the couch and folding her arms. “Me and Camille have been trying to call you for weeks.”
“I know. Got busy,” I told her, heading to the kitchen to pluck a Gatorade from the fridge.
“Too busy to talk to your sisters?”