“Hello?” my mother answers on the second ring.
“Hi, Mom. I’m just calling to say goodnight to Indie. How is she?”
“She’s fine. Your dad is reading to her.”
“The entire bookshelf?”
“Of course.” My mom chuckles.
Some of the worry I’ve been feeling since I left my baby girl fades. I know my parents are taking good care of her, but it still feels weird leaving her. Ever since Indie was born, it’s been the two of us. My parents helped a lot in the beginning; they let us stay with them rent free and they watched her while I went to classes at a local community college twice a week. Since I came to Valley two months ago, though, this is the first time I’ve gone anywhere beyond school without her.
The stadium gets louder, and I look up at the giant screen to see they’re starting to announce the players.
“Can you give him the phone so I can say goodnight to her. The game is about to start.”
I press the video chat button and then my dad’s voice greets me and his face, as well as my daughter’s, fills the screen.
“Hey,” I say, smiling at the two of them.
Indie leans toward the phone reaching out as if she’s trying to touch me.
“Are you having fun with Grandma and Grandpa?” I ask.
She grins back, her beautiful indigo eyes that make my chest ache in remembrance.
“We’re reading about penguin and hippo,” Dad says, adjusting my daughter on his lap. “How’s the game?”
“It hasn’t started yet. They’re announcing the players.”
“They’re what?” my dad asks. The place gets louder still and there seems to be no escaping it.
“Announcing the players,” I practically scream. “I just called to say goodnight.”
He must catch at least part of my response because he instructs my daughter to say goodnight to Mommy. She doesn’t, her words are still few and far between, but she waves her little chubby hand and I wish I was there to breathe her in and kiss her cheeks.
“I’ll see you guys in just a little bit. I’m coming straight back as soon as the game is over.”
“No need to rush.” My mom steps into the frame beside my dad. “Enjoy a night out while you’ve got free daycare in town.”
“Thanks, Mom. Love you guys.”
I slip my phone into my pocket and start back to my seat. The players come out one at a time from behind the far side of the basketball court. The overhead lights are still dimmed, but there’s a lighted archway they step through when their name is announced, as well as a spotlight that follows them as they run out to half court with the rest of the team.
The guys are having a good time with it. Strutting out, dancing, high fiving people leaning over the railings. One cheerleader does backflips down the court. Two guys lift another up high as she holds a sign that says Let’s Go!
I’m nearly to my seat when another player is announced and runs out to booming screams. I have to check the screen for his name because the deafening shrieks make it impossible to hear.
John Datson
My pulse quickens at the face on the jumbotron. Dark hair, shorter than I remember, but the relaxed smile that tips up his lips in a friendly smirk and those indigo eyes framed by long, dark lashes, I could pick out anywhere. I glance back to the guy making his way to half court. He’s filled out more since I last saw him. His chest is broader, biceps bigger, but the way he moves is so him. Easy, graceful, cocky. And a basketball player? Lindsey was right; I don’t know him.
My best friend’s arms are extended up toward the roof and she screams along with everyone else. When I get close, she throws those flailing arms around me. “You’re back!” She pulls away when I don’t share her enthusiasm. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s here.” The words sound far away. My ears are ringing, and my head is fuzzy and light-headed.
“Who?” Her eyes widen. “Wait. He’s here?! Where?”
I turn my gaze to half court where he dances around with his teammates. “Number thirty-one.”
“Datson is your John?”
I shoot her a glare. “You know him?”
The lights come back up and the players divide up into teams of blue and white. John wears a blue jersey. He tucks the top into his shorts as he walks out and then gets in position for the tip-off.
“Yeah, of course.” She shakes her head. “I mean, no. It’s just, he’s Datson, everyone knows him.”
“You’re just mentioning him now?” Two years I’ve combed through Johns on the Valley directory trying to find him and she knows him?
“I’ve only ever heard him called Datson. I’m not even sure I knew his first name until tonight. Are you sure it’s him?”
“Positive.” So positive my heart races with fond memories I thought I’d hidden away more carefully.
Everyone continues standing until the first basket is made. Staring out onto the basketball court, watching his athletic body move, I can’t believe he never mentioned he was a jock. A popular jock. I let my head hang as I remember complaining to him about how I didn’t think professional athletes should get paid so much or take all the great college scholarships just for being born with superior genetics. He told me he thought there was probably a lot more work involved than being born really tall or fast, and we’d laughed. I’d mostly been joking, but also maybe a little bitter that the scholarship I’d received for the following year was only going to cover half of my tuition. God, what an idiot I’d been.
John’s team has possession. He jogs toward the guy with the ball and gets in the way of the defender, then rolls toward the basket. The ball is tossed up high to him, his long arms reach up, and he dunks it. The crowd goes nuts. My pulse jumps and dances, and my stomach is taken over by a million butterflies.
I finally found him. After all this time, I actually found him. I thought I’d be more excited, but reality shoves that excitement right out of the way and instead I’m so nervous I might puke. Knowing where he is means I have to tell him. Every good thing I’ve held onto, about him and that night, will either be proven right or die a spectacularly awful death, right along with my belief in love and soulmates.
Lindsey squeals. Her happiness doesn’t understand my anxiety. “Looks like you’re coming to the party with me after all.”
Chapter Two
John
By the time I get back to my place after the game, The White House is already packed. Two beers and a bottle of Jack are thrust in my hand as I make my way through the kitchen.
My buddy Shaw and his girlfriend Sydney are sharing a bar stool. “Nice job out there tonight,” Shaw says, his arms wrapped around Sydney’s waist as she perches on his lap.
She melts into him. Cartoon hearts hang above their heads and in Shaw’s eyes. They got together over the summer after years of being just friends and it’s still a little weird to see them like this. Weird, but fitting.
“Thanks.” I twist off the top of one of the beers and take a long drink. I haven’t yet decided if it’s a beer or liquor kind of night.