Page 464 of Ruthless Court

Her mother is watching us from the kitchen with tears already forming.

Coach Goodwin is trying desperately not to ask me basketball questions.

Snow falls outside.

A Christmas tree glows in the living room.

And Hannah is holding my hand.

Maybe my parents were right.

Maybe I didn't need to choose between respecting her boundary and fighting for us.

Maybe sometimes loving someone means finding the bridge they were too tired to build alone.

Hannah squeezes my fingers.

“Come on.”

“Where?”

“Cookies.”

“Then Uno?”

Her smile turns dangerous.

“You're going down, Haverhill.”

I follow her toward the kitchen.

“Highly unlikely.”

Behind us, Coach Goodwin mutters, “She cheats.”

“I heard that,” Hannah calls.

I grin.

Yeah.

I'm staying.

Twenty-Two

HANNAH- TWO YEARS LATER

I know Stanford has won the national championship when six very large men stop behaving like human beings.

The horn sounds.

Red explodes around me.

Confetti.

Screaming.

Bodies pouring onto the court.