Page 97 of Play Maker

The Kodiaks were going in like David versus Goliath, and Goliath steamrolled us.

Forty-eight minutes of scrappy game play leave us bruised and bloodied.

In the locker room, my guys are deflated.

“If we’d had Kyle…” Rookie starts.

“Kyle doesn’t give a shit,” Jay replies.

“They’re too good.” Atlas shakes his head.

“Don’t put this on them,” I interrupt as I change my shoes. “You want to look at what to fix, you look at us. We let them do this.”

I kick my locker and stalk out of the locker room to cool off.

Harlan’s pacing the hall.

“You want to say something?” I call to him, and he stops.

“It was a good run. You took this team farther than we had any business going. It’s been a rough couple of years, and you’re showing up as professionals. You put the team ahead of yourself, and that’s all I can ask.”

I stare down the tunnel toward the lights.

No.

We’re not giving up.

I pull out my phone and text Nova.

Clay: Do you still have that flag?

I place a call, and twenty minutes later, the entire starting lineup plus Harlan is piling into a limo.

“Where we going?” Rookie asks.

“It better have a drink,” Atlas grumbles.

Nova and Brooke tuck in too, Waffles in Brooke’s lap.

The mood is rough. When we pull up in front of our destination and pile out, the guys eye the business’s sign skeptically.

I hold the door, and Nova leads the way, everyone heading inside. I shake hands with my artist.

“Was wondering when you’d be by for your next tattoo.”

I hold up the flag and point at the bear in the center. “I want that.”

“Where?” Jay asks.

I tug my shirt over my head, pointing to an empty spot on my chest next to my heart.

“Been saving a spot. I thought it would be for when I won the championship, but I was wrong. It was for this team. Because I’ve played ball a few places, but nowhere like this one. This team makes the most of what it’s given. This team fights, even when it’s hard. This team looks out for one another, on and off the court.”

I take my seat, my gaze connecting with Nova’s as the artist starts his work.

A throat clears.

Jay.

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