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“I want to flip him off,” she said, again under her breath, even as she smiled at his smug face.
“He gets that a lot.” Rory grabbed a basketball lying outside the court lines, smoothly pushing his chair back to her. “Go for it. He’ll consider it a compliment.”
She kept the smile and raised her voice, displaying the rude gesture. “Keep calling me that, and you’ll see how much of a ball buster I am.”
He scrunched his face into mock fear. “Skinny thing like you will blow away in a hard wind.”
Typical. “Be careful or I’ll teach Parker how to hypnotize you in your sleep. You’ll be quacking like a duck before you know it.”
He made a finger gun and fired it at her. “I like you.” He strolled off to the showers.
Controlling her eye roll, she pivoted to take the ball from Rory. The man had a huge grin on his face. She bounced the ball—at least she knew how to do that. “Shady?”
He rubbed the tops of his thighs, probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. “Having been a spy and an assassin, I’ve been called worse.”
“I thought maybe it was a reflection of your basketball skills and he was secretly warning me you play dirty.”
“Always.” Rory winked. “He’s right, you know. You fit in well with the rest of us. We can sure use you if you decide to stay.”
It was becoming a broken record. Had Beatrice put them all up to this? “That’s up in the air.” As was the basketball when she fired it at the net. It missed by a good three feet and hit the concrete wall behind the hoop.
“Jeez.” Rory watched her rush after the bouncing ball. “You sure you’ve played before?”
Keeping her back to him, she hid her smile. “You think you can take me, Shady?”
“Hey, now, respect your elders.”
She turned and tossed him the ball. “Show me what you got.”
Even in a wheelchair, the man was fast and agile. While she’d seen the game played, she had no skills, and Rory wasn’t above taking advantage of her.
“Don’t tell Beatrice I was on the court with this wheelchair. I’m supposed to use my other one when I play,” he said. “Now, plant your feet like I told you, fingers facing the basket. Control your movement, less is better.”
Panting, she bent at the waist and braced herself on her knees. She’d already missed five throws. He’d sworn jump shots were the easiest, and had suggested he knew she was lying about her skills. “Why do you need your other chair?”
“The wheels won’t wreck the coating on the floor.”
“I can go get it for you.”
He gave her a wolfish grin. “Need a break all ready?”
She sure did. “Could you at least stand up and show me your trick?”
The grin faded but the challenge sparkled in his eyes. “I need my crutches, you know that.”
“I’ll get them.”
“You wouldn’t be trying to distract me so you can catch your breath, would you?”
She straightened. “Nah, if I wanted to distract you, I’d talk about how nervous I am to have Parker hypnotize me, or how scared I am about Ian putting himself out there as bait.”Thud, thud, thud, she bounced the ball. “There’s a part of me that wants to hide here—Beatrice has made that too easy. I want to forget everything that happened, not take the risk of opening that door again. Stay in this cocoon and pretend I’m needed.”
He scrutinized her closely, but she kept her eye on the hoop, continuing to dribble. When he didn’t comment, she went on. “This place is like your crutches. It’s propped me up, but it’s keeping me from doing what I know I need to do—walk on my own.”
Silence fell between them as she held the ball and squeezed it tight. She didn’t throw it, though, as if she were thinking something through.
Finally, he said, “Sometimes we need crutches before we can walk on our own. It’s okay to be scared, to need other people, to put off remembering what it used to be like.”
Turning his words over, she secretly agreed. But this wasn’t about her. “Not my style,” she said. “I have to face things, stand on my own two feet. For me, not knowing what I did is worse than hiding my head in the sand and pretending this plateau is okay. It may be safe, but I’ve never played it safe. I don’t intend to start.”
