“But you should.”

“But I won’t.” I shake my head. “You don’t get it.”

“What I get is that because of your preoccupation with Caleb’s baby mama, your leg is broken, your career is up in the air, your team may trade your ass, and everything you’ve worked for your whole life is in jeopardy. For some pussy.”

“It’s not like that. She—”

“Oh, so you don’t want to fuck her?”

Of course, I want to fuck her. What am I? A eunuch?

“Not just that.” I try to stop it, but my lips twitch at the corners.

“It’s not funny,” Jared says, but when I look over at him, his lips are twitching, too. We both give in and chuckle.

It gets quiet while we zip through the familiar streets. So many Saturdays through the years he brought me to the community center in his beat-up Camry. We talked about my far-fetched dream of playing in the NBA. Of him managing the biggest names in sports. Of how we’d sit on top of the world together.

Now, we’re in his Porsche. I’m a baller, a brand with one of the highest-selling jerseys in the league. One of the fattest contracts a rookie’s ever gotten. And I’d risk it all for a girl? I know what he means, but I want more than basketball. I want a life beyond that. I’m not saying that life is with Iris, but I am saying I’ve never felt with anyone else what I feel with her, and I have to chase that as hard as I chased basketball. What I felt today, what I’ve felt every time I’ve been with her, it’s real and it’s special. It’s worth chasing. If I don’t try, I’ll always wonder.

What if the thing that seems like an impossible dream is within my grasp?

27

Iris

I shouldn’t have told him I wasn’t engaged.

It’s selfish and reckless to encourage August. At least until I get out from under Caleb. At some point, I know I’ll have to ask someone for help, but it will be at the right time when I have the tools not only to escape from Caleb, but to keep him out of our lives. Until I have that, I should be so careful about every step I take, and indulging myself, my yearning for what I see in August’s eyes and feel in his touch . . . It’s anything but careful. If Caleb is capable of half the things I think he is, recklessness could get August hurt even more than he already has been.

But August’s expression when he saw Caleb’s ring . . . Devastation? Betrayal? Disappointment? Defeat? It was all those things on one handsome face. And maybe it was the defeat I hated most—the thought that he would give up on whatever it is that blooms between us like a flower, opening up a little more each time we’re together.

I can stand back and objectively say it shouldn’t feel this powerful, whatever is between us. We haven’t spent that much time together, but from that first night, August felt like a milestone in my life. Like a turning point—like a hinge parts of my future swung on. And if he gives up, we’ll never know what we could be when all the obstacles are gone. When Caleb doesn’t stand between us.

“Two hours,” Ramone says from the front seat, his stony stare a warning in the rearview mirror. “I’ll be back in two hours.”

It’s unnecessary, Ramone’s abrupt reminder that time at the community center is merely a furlough from my prison. I’m at the house every night alone, and it’s bliss compared to how it is when Caleb’s there. But I’m lonely, and I felt it most starkly last night after seeing August. Time with him resurrected my senses and summoned butterflies in my stomach I thought were long dead.

Without responding to Ramone, I climb out of the back seat and load Sarai into her stroller. I don’t look at him once before I start across the street and enter the community center.

Ms. Audrey takes Sarai with a gentle smile, and Sarai is crawling around with the other babies before I’m even out of sight. The socialization is good for her. I wish there were more opportunities for that, but Caleb won’t hear of it, much less pay for it. That would leave too many factors out of his control.

Torrie and Shelia are already in the rec room when I arrive. Today, I made a little more effort, wearing black wide-legged linen pants and a pink and black sleeveless top. My hair is down my back, freshly washed. My makeup is simple but heavier than it was yesterday. In other words, I tried. As much as I may not want to admit it, knowing August would be here today, I tried. It must be evident because Torrie and Shelia both raise their brows when I walk in.

“Mmmm-mmm-mmmph.” Torrie flicks the large gold hoop in my ear. “Oh, you fancy, huh?”

Shelia looks up from the board games she’s setting out for the kids to play when they return from the gym.

“Little upgrade, I see,” Sheila adds. “Is this for us or for Mr. Rookie of the Year?”

I force a disdainful laugh. “August and I barely know each other.” I make myself meet their eyes directly.

“Looked like you knew something,” Torrie says, “the way he ran out of here after you, and y’all were all booed up.”

Reckless. Careless. I have to do better today. “Nope. Nothing to it.” I consider the table filled with games. “So are we playing games after August talks with them?”

“Oh, he’s with them now in the gym overseeing some drills,” Shelia says, looking at me slyly. “He’ll probably leave after that so looks like you got all dressed up for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t call this dressed up . . .” Her words sink in, and disappointment follows. I don’t even bother finishing my denial.

So I won’t see August today. It’s for the best.

I’m still convincing myself of that when the kids pour in, sweaty and laughing, from the gym. I put on a bright smile and serve the bagged lunches they’ll eat before the games start.

I’m passing out Gatorades when a deep rumble of laughter raises the hairs on my arms. I snap my head around, searching for the source. August sits on one of the tables, one foot on the bench and his injured leg stretched out in its cast. He laughs at something with the kids clustered around him and throws his head back. His hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it, and with those dark, caramel-kissed curls, his skin, bronze melded with gold, and his teeth flashing white in the strong planes of his face, I literally cannot take my eyes off him.

I’ll give myself three seconds to look at him.

One.

Two.

And then he looks up, and our eyes hold. I’d love to pretend this is casual. Friends with a dash of attraction. Slightly forbidden, but mostly harmless. There’s an undeniable truth, though, when my eyes connect with his. When our eyes meet, it isn’t casual. He and I together are mayhem. When he looks at me, I can’t pretend otherwise.

I turn away before Torrie and Shelia pay even closer attention, and walk over to the game table and pretend to arrange UNO and Monopoly and Taboo.

“You like board games?”

I jump at his question, dropping a deck of cards all over the floor and at August’s feet.

“Ugh.” I sink to my knees to gather them. “Such a klutz.”

He squats awkwardly, scooping up cards.

“August, no! Your leg.”

I grab his arm and carefully coax him upright, which brings our bodies almost flush. When he looks down at me, his stare mirrors the feelings, the desire pulsing through my body. That stare is hot and hungry and curious. It wonders how I taste. Asks how I’d feel crushed against him. It imagines a first kiss I’m not sure we’ll ever have.

“You look pretty today.” His words are polite enough, but the air between us is thick and carnal. One wrong word could slice right through it.

“Thank you. I . . .” I encounter Sylvia’s inquiring eyes just beyond his shoulder. I turn my head and collide glances with Torrie and Shelia. “Why is everyone watching us?”

August casts a discreet look from the corner of his eye, and the dark line of his brows falls.

“I think they see the same thing Caleb saw at the game that night.” He surreptitiously links our pinky fingers. “They see I can’t stay away from you. That I don’t want to.”

“August.” I reluctantly untangle our fingers, sweeping the room to see who might still be watching. Everyone seems to have found other things to occupy their attention, but we should separate. “I’m gonna go restock the drinks. I’ll see you later.”

He catches my elbow and bends to whisper in my ear, “Meet me on the basketball court once they start playing games.”

I shake my head and scoot away as quickly as I can because that’s the smart thing to do, but I already know I’ll find a way.

We’re cleaning up after lunch while the kids play games when Torrie broaches the subject I have no desire to discuss.

“So, you and August West,” she says, pulling a bag from the trash can. “You know each other?”

I don’t glance up from the sink of suds and the few dishes there were to wash.

“Not really.” I give her my most innocent smile. “I mean, the way everyone else knows him. That he’s a great player.”

“You two should get on the same page.” She laughs and shakes her head. “’Cause he’s not even trying to fake it, and you’re not very good at it.”

My hands go still over the steamy water.

“I don’t know what you mean.” I look at her, clear-eyed, before I pick up a dish towel to dry the dishes.

“Oh, don’t feel bad,” she says “Not with his fine ass. His nose is wide open for you, girl. Stevie Wonder could see that.”

“Wow. That’s not exactly politically correct.” I feel guilty for the giggle that slips past my lips despite the inappropriateness of her humor.

“I’m not very good at beating around the bush,” she says, her expression going from uncertain to defiant to don’t give a damn. “Get yours, Iris, because Caleb is definitely getting his.”

The mere mention of Caleb’s name runs my blood cold. He won’t be back from China until next week, but I still feel the specter of him like an ill-intentioned ghost haunting me, dogging my every step.