Block Shot (Hoops 2)

“Scared you so badly you ran off with your new boyfriend the first chance you got?” My mother asks in our native tongue from behind me.

I send her a quelling look over my shoulder.

“Mama, you don’t know what you’re talking about and now is not the time.”

“When will be the time, Bannini?” she asks, her eyes saddened, angry. “This man loves you.”

“And I love him,” I snap, turning to give her the full force of my expression. “Do you think I would have gone through the last three months if I didn’t love him? That I would be prepared to do it again when he has stem cell replacement if I didn’t love him?”

“Oh, that is your idea of love?” Mama expels a harsh laugh. “Cheating on him like a common whore?”

I’m quiet because I cannot fully deny her accusation. I did cheat on Zo, and as much as I love Jared, as sure as I am that we belong together, I will never condone what I did or how I hurt Zo.

“I see you have no defense,” Mama continues. “You slept with him? With this gringo?”

“Yes, Mama,” I answer softly, tears stinging my eyes. “I did.”

“You admit it.” She shakes her head, a layer of disappointment over her disapproval. “I raised you better than that. That you would shame our family, shame yourself this way is unacceptable.”

“I know, Mama. I’ve apologized to Zo.”

“He knows?” Mama asks. “So not just this disease but a broken heart, too?”

God, I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. Every word is like another heavy clump of dirt on a grave, burying me alive.

“Stop.” The one word comes from behind me, from Zo. It’s thin and weak, like him, but there is no mistaking the steel in it. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“But, Zo,” Mama says, making her way over to the bed. “She cheated on you? Was unfaithful to you?”

“Almost dying has a way of bringing things into focus,” he says. “She’s not in love with me.”

A rueful smile tilts his beautiful mouth.

“I can admit that now,” he says, sharing a look with me. “She may not be in love with me, but she loves me. She chose me when I needed her to. Tonight is not the first time she has saved my life, and I won’t have anyone, not even you, Mama, speak against her.”

He shifts his tired, intent stare from my mother to me.

“Good people may do bad things, wrong things,” he says. “But they are still good people, still capable of doing amazing things, and Banner has more than proven that.”

“Zo,” I choke out. “You don’t have to—”

“I have not always done the right thing, either, Bannini,” he cuts in softly. “I forgive you. Forgive yourself, and then forgive me for keeping you from the one you do love. The one who loves you. I knew it as soon as he stepped foot in your house that night.”

A harsh laugh briefly disrupts his shallow breathing.

“Hell, I don’t think he even knew at that point how he felt,” he says. “And in a way, I’ve been fighting it ever since.”

I stuff down a sob. I didn’t realize how much I needed this. How the burden of my infidelity was like a stone tied around my neck, something I’ve dragged around for months. The weight lifts and I feel freer than I have in such a long time. And my heart swells with the same affection I have had from him from the beginning, from that first day in the Bagley office when he plucked me from obscurity and set me on a course that determined a future exceeding even what I had ever dreamed.

“Thank you, Zo.” I lean down to kiss his cheek. “For everything.”

He is already drifting off again, succumbing to the medication they have given him to force rest on his body. I turn to find Mama watching me with wide, wet eyes. There is not forgiveness there, not yet, but at least now there is more understanding.

“We should go,” I say stiffly. “Let him rest.”

Mama slips a rosary from her purse, tagged with a silver cross, and wraps it around Zo’s hand prone on the hospital bed. We walk out at the same time, both stopping when we see Jared seated on the floor against the wall facing the door. He pulls himself up, standing to his fu

ll, imposing height. I don’t think about Mama beside me or even Zo on the other side of the door. I just know where I belong. I link my arms behind his neck and press myself into the familiar strength of his body, almost bursting into tears when he presses me tighter, buries his head in the hair at my neck. We stay that way for long minutes. I hear the quick steps of my mother’s retreat, leaving us alone, but I don’t pull away. Not yet.