Page 182 of Ruthless Court

“It’s two tickets.”

“Two?”

“She has roommates.”

“Or a husband.”

I glare at him.

Vale laughs quietly.

“There he is.”

Noah takes the ball from me and passes it toward the next station.

“You’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You’ve missed left three times,” Vale says.

“You crash the boards. Worry about rebounds.”

“I am. Your misses are providing excellent practice.”

I step closer.

Noah catches my arm before it becomes noticeable.

“Coaches,” he warns.

An assistant glances our way.

All three of us separate.

Vale heads back toward the paint as if we were discussing the drill.

Noah stays beside me.

“Who is she?”

“None of your business.”

“Vale will ask until March.”

“I know.”

“You might as well tell us.”

“No.”

Vale calls from beneath the basket, loud enough for us but not the coaches.

“Stella and I are rooting for you, Haverhill.”

I flip him off at waist level.

Noah laughs.