Page 151 of On Merit Alone
“Ira’s just being protective. I, um—you see, I don’t—” Blinking upward, I cursed the stinging in my eyes. I thought I could do this. Thought I could simplysaya sentence in which my reality resided. But unfortunately I still couldn’t. And as disappointing as that was, I brought my eyes back down to find just what I needed waiting to help. Just who.
A large hand spanned the length of my back, smoothing up and down over the muscles in a long soothing motion. “Six doesn’t have any family around. It’s a tough subject and I wanted to make sure Mama Nosey wasn’t prying into it. But… turns out she wanted you all to know. So be gentle about it, yeah?”
Lisa was up and gathering me in her arms in an instant. “Well then. I'm glad you ended up here today. Family or not, us Kings don’t have any issue making room in ours.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Merit
I paddeddown the hall of the tunnel toward the men’s locker room without any regard for getting caught. We’d just won one of those hold-your-breath type games. The ones where anything could happen. Where the basketball played wasn’t exactly pretty, but it was still a dog fight and the victory just barely scraped by.
I’d usually be upset with a win like this. Winning ugly was still winning, but it didn’t always feel good. But after a season like this, full of ups and downs and insecurities and the questioning of my career itself, it felt like validation coming out on top tonight.
Because we’d made it to the playoffs.
I don’t know when the playoffs became the measure of my comeback success, but I realized now that somewhere in my head, it’s what I’d been fighting tooth and nail for. It was obvious that over the course of the season, even after doing exactly what he wanted, Rob didn’t like me much. And after the way I acted with Chelsea, I couldn’t dispute it without some kind of tangible evidence that I was worth forgiving. The playoffs were that evidence.
The competitor in me obviously wanted to go all the way. Iwanted towinin the championship, just like I had wanted every other year. But the ups and downs of this season, not to mention the rest of my life this year, had given me perspective.
It didn’t always happen right away. There were steps to growth. This year’s step was simply making it there.
Hopefully it was enough for Rob to forgive me and want to keep me.
Speaking of the devil, as I dragged my tired limbs in the opposite direction of my own locker room in nothing but my socks and sweaty uniform, I heard the clicky dress shoes making their way toward me way too late. By the time I realized who it was, he was standing right under me.
“Ms. Jones,” Rob said slowly in greeting.
“Sir,” I said tersely, immediately holding my hand out to shake his.Shit. I was not prepared for this. I was headed to the men’s locker room for God’s sake. I mean, it could be for any reason as far as he knew, but just the knowledge of what we’d done in there a few times before was enough to have my cheeks burning with embarrassment as I stood there looking down at the man who owned my career.
“Close one out there tonight, but good you managed to scrape through,” he said, but it wasn’t in a way that sounded exactly congratulatory. It almost sounded like he was irritated. “Maybe next time it’ll be more decisive.”
“Definitely next time. We’re looking good overall, just had an off night,” I said. “But getting better every game. We’ll definitely be in good shape before the playoffs start.”
He let out a short grunt, eyeing me. “Still stiff as ever, Jones. Do you ever think maybe the problem is you?”
I bristled. “Maybe before, when I was coming back. But I’m confident I’m no longer holding the team back. I’ve recovered. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“And the team’s image? Has that recovered from your ‘little slip’?” he asked aggressively.
“Cherry doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge over it,” I said through my teeth. Which was true.
Cherry and I had spoken after that first bullshit interview where they made women’s sports out to be some kind of charity case that people should “support” and “care for” instead of just enjoying it like men’s sports. We’d even bonded about how absurd people made us out to be. We apologized for taking shots at each other’s careers and found out that we even had a thing or two in common. She ran division one track in Virginia, close to where I grew up. Long story short, we were good.
Rob was the only one holding onto the mistake from months ago.
Why, though?
He huffed, his arms crossing over his stout body like a child would. “Not to your face. You should have just apologized as I suggested.”
I eyed him curiously. He was being rude, not even bothering to hide it behind a mask. Probably because there was no one else in the hallway with us. That very same factor is probably why I decided to ask, “What is your problem with me?”
Because theredefinitelywas a problem.
It didn't hurt my feelings that he seemed to not like me, but out of my five years here, Rob had been here three, the first GM retiring not long after I was signed. And though he didn’t seem to love me, he didn’t hate me either. Until now.
His eyes skated up and down my form, his lip curling. But just as I thought he would tell me the truth, he pulled back his disdainful expression. “No problem, Ms. Jones. I’m just wary of this team's faith in you as their star, as I’ve said. I see a lack of leadership and presence with you, and now after that knee went to the shitter, I’m seeing a lack of results.”
I swallowed. Here we go again.
