King of the Court

“Ben,” he says again, sounding like he’s seen a ghost.

I finally glance up and notice he’s stopped packing his bag. He’s staring across the court, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“Is that Shelby over there?”

Anthony’s question comes from so far out of left field it takes me an obnoxiously long time to catch on to what he’s just said. Shelby?

Here?

I turn abruptly to see where he’s looking. Sure enough, there she is, standing in the doorway of our training complex, holding one arm across her stomach as a deep frown mars her features.

My heart immediately stops.

What the fuck is Shelby doing here?

I can barely process the sight of her in a loose white button-down shirt, rolled up to her elbows, cropped jeans, and simple flats. Her hair is much shorter than the last time I saw her, and the cut suits her. She looks well, and the petty part of me resents that. She shouldn’t get to look so happy and healthy.

Seeing her here feels like a punch to the gut.

I want to be unbothered, but there’s still a lot of anger simmering deep down.

I hate it. Hate that I haven’t overcome those feelings of betrayal and lost love.

I also fucking hate that she’s pulling a stunt like this, showing up in Texas, at training camp. She has some nerve.

My teammates glance from her to me, and I swear I could hear a pin drop inside the complex now that everyone’s aware of the situation. With a sigh of impatience, I grab my bag and head straight for her, trying and failing to rein in my anger by the time I reach her.

I don’t even stop walking, don’t deign to meet her gaze as I speak. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but we’re only supposed to communicate through our lawyers.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. Ben—”

She has to turn and race after me.

“I’ll call my assistant and get you on the first flight back to Los Angeles. Whatever you thought you were doing by coming here…it’s not happening.”

“Would you stop for just a second, please?”

I don’t listen to her. I keep walking, out of the complex, past the cars, and toward my cabin. She follows behind me, trying hard to keep up with my long strides.

“Listen, I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I knew if I called first, you wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

I don’t deny her claim.

“Ben, please.”

I barely contain the urge to shout. Who does she think she is? Pulling this after everything? Everything.

We reach the line of trees where the forest starts and I keep going, anxious to put distance between us and the rest of my team. We don’t need an audience for this. I have enough eyes on my life as it is, and I don’t trust every guy to keep his mouth shut. Some of them like the limelight. Some of them would love feeding this story to the press for a nice lump sum.

“Ben, you’re being—”

“Don’t.”

My tone is biting, and she immediately goes silent as she follows behind me, hurrying as much as she can. I’m relieved when my cabin is in sight. I don’t know what will happen when we get there, but it feels like the only option is to continue forward, away from Shelby.

I stomp up the stairs and bang open the door. I don’t invite her in, so she comes to an abrupt halt in the doorway.

I toss my bag and mean for it to land on a chair, but it hits the wall instead. I see her jump in shock and I tense, aware of how nervous she is. Fuck. I’m being an asshole. I take a calming breath, tell myself to get it together. Then I turn, and when I speak, it’s finally with a cool, measured tone.

“This couldn’t have waited until I got back to Los Angeles? Did you really need to drag this shit across state lines?”

Up close, she’s as beautiful as ever. Smooth black skin, curious hazel eyes. She looks resigned and downright sad, and I’m shocked to realize I still have the capacity to feel pity for her after everything.

“No. It couldn’t wait.”

Her hand goes up to cradle her stomach, and I see for the first time what’s been so obvious since I first spotted her. Underneath her loose shirt, she’s concealing a very pregnant belly.

I have tunnel vision as I stare straight at it, trying to process what this means.

Shelby is pregnant.

Shelby is pregnant with Mike’s baby.

I feel like I’m sinking down into quicksand, like I need to hold on to something or I’ll go under. I reach out and grab ahold of the table beside me, hunching forward.

Shelby takes a hesitant step toward me, obviously worried about my reaction.

“Why?” I ask, and it sounds like my soul is being crushed. Why did she need to come here and show me this? Rub salt in a wound that was damn near healed?