Long Shot (Hoops 1)

I can’t keep thinking of another man, of Caleb’s rival this way, and continue living here, continue in this relationship. Maybe I should wait until his rookie season is over. He just admitted how stressful it’s been. That’s the most Caleb’s revealed to me in a long time. We’ve been like satellites, just kind of in each other’s orbit but not close enough to touch. The distance between us—doesn’t he feel it? Does he even care?

“Hey, there’s something I want to ask you,” Caleb says from his side of the bed. He’s lying on his side, his chin propped in his hand.

“Okay.” I lick my lips nervously and pull the sheet more tightly around my nakedness. “Shoot.”

Mischief lights his eyes and widens his smile, and for a moment, he’s that guy who showed up at the bookstore every day, with coffee, wooing me to go on a date with him. He turns over and reaches into his nightstand. When he comes back, his eyes dart between my face and the ginormous diamond he’s holding. “Iris, will you marry me?”

I always dreamt that when those words were spoken to me, I’d be elated. There would be no hesitation. I would fling myself into that man’s arms and weep for joy. Only the weeping part is turning out to be true. I blink back tears of frustration and regret. We are obviously nowhere near being on the same page since I was just contemplating how to leave him. This will be more difficult than I thought.

“Caleb, I don’t know what to say,” I mumble, biting my lip until it matches my other aches. “I’m … well, are you sure about this?”

“What the hell do you mean am I sure?” The ring trembles between his fingers with the anger I see clearly on his face. “We live together. We have a baby together. Of course, I’m sure. What kind of question is that?”

I wish he was being rhetorical, and I didn’t have to respond, but he’s clearly waiting, not too patiently, for my reply. “I mean, things haven’t been the same, have they?” I ask, searching his face for some answering understanding. “There’s been this distance, and I—”

“We couldn’t have sex for months, Iris, while you were on pelvic rest or whatever. And then we had to wait another six weeks.” He rolls away, tossing the priceless diamond onto the nightstand as if it’s one of those candy ring pops. “I’ve been on the road. Hell, you were moping around here for weeks like you’d lost your best friend. You didn’t even want our baby. Of course, there’s been distance.”

“What did you say about Sarai?” I pick the most disturbing thing from his list of grievances. “Of course it was hard at first, and I was sorting through a lot, but—”

“Forget I mentioned it.” He stands and walks into the bathroom, turning on the light and illuminating his well-conditioned body. He’s an elite athlete. At six foot six, he’s as tall as August. With his classic blond hair and navy blue eyes, he’s just as handsome in a completely different way. But there’s no thrill when I look at him naked. I suddenly scan my mind, my heart, for the last time there was.

I slip on my robe and follow him into the bathroom, determined to hash this out so we can end this chapter of our relationship and move on to the next. Figure out custody and co-parenting and all the details that come with a separation I hope won’t be messy.

“Caleb, can we talk?” I ask softly.

He’s silent, his broad, tanned back turned away from me, his posture stiff. I touch his shoulder. He flings my hand off. I stumble back from the force of it, and my hip bumps painfully into the sharp edge of the counter.

“Ow.” I wince, squeezing my eyes shut against the brief, blinding pain. “Caleb, God. That hurt.”

I wait for an apology that doesn’t come. His eyes run dispassionately over me, his inspection starting at my bare feet and climbing over every inch until he meets my eyes. There’s a frigid possessiveness there, as if I’m a misbehaving pet he owns but isn’t too fond of. One he needs to make sure gets back in line.

I shiver under that icy stare. I still feel it when he looks away. The cold has set in.

“Hey, we’ve got time.” He tugs me into him, even though he must feel how stiff I am in his arms. “Let’s not talk about marriage again until the season is over. Can you just give me that? I have a string of tough games coming up, and I need to focus.”

Everything in me screams to get this settled, because it’s lingered long enough, but I nod. I can give him that, but he’s never fucking me again. I felt like an object tonight—like he was collecting rent money. It was a transaction between our bodies, one where I got nothing, and he took everything. As I look back over our relationship, I have to wonder.

Has it been that way all along?

12

Iris

“We need to schedule some charitable work for you, Caleb.”

Sylvia, the Stingers’ community outreach coordinator, bites into the beignet I offered her with a cup of coffee.

“These are incredible.” She groans and closes her eyes in what looks like rapture. “Did you make these yourself, Iris?”

“Yeah.” I laugh and wave a finger in front of my mouth. “You have some powder.”

“Oh.” She brushes away the white powder. “Thank you. I didn’t know people actually made these at home.”

“Well, I’m from Louisiana.” I smile, thinking about the time MiMi showed Lo and me how to make them. “It’s one of the few recipes I follow pretty well.”

“I need to leave for tonight’s game in a little bit,” Caleb interjects, a small frown marring his expression. “What are the charitable opportunities?”

Sylvia’s smile dims a little, and so does mine. Caleb has been uncooperative and surly all day. I hoped he would shake the funk for this meeting with Sylvia, but he’s been distracted and abrupt the whole time she’s been here.