Marcus’s POV
I stood frozen as they carried Brent off the court. His groans of pain still rang in my ears, and the sight of his leg—twisted, bloodied—was burned into my brain. Stacey was right beside him, clutching his hand like her life depended on it, her face streaked with tears.
My pulse was hammering in my ears.
"Listen up," I said as the team huddled together. "Brent got us here, and we’re not letting him down. Run the pick-and-roll, keep the defense tight, and trust me to handle the inside."
The guys nodded, their faces grim but determined.
As we broke the huddle and moved into position, my eyes drifted to the sidelines. Betty was standing there, her hands clasped together like she was holding herself back from running onto the court. When our eyes met, she gave me the smallest nod, her lips moving silently: You’ve got this.
***
The final minutes of the game were a blur of adrenaline and sweat. My body moved on instinct, every play running like clockwork. I drove the ball inside, taking hit after hit, but I didn’t care. Brent wasn’t here to carry us, so I’d do it for him.
The crowd roared as I scored back-to-back points, tying the game with less than a minute on the clock. My lungs burned, my muscles screamed, but I kept pushing.
Thirty seconds left.
The opposing team had tightened their defense, their eyes glued to me every time I touched the ball. I dribbled at the top of the key, feeling the weight of every defender’s gaze.
Fifteen seconds.
I faked a shot, drawing two defenders off their feet, and spotted Dylan wide open in the corner. Without hesitation, I passed him the ball.
"Take it!" I shouted.
Dylan squared up and released the shot just as the buzzer sounded. The ball sailed through the air, the entire gym holding its breath.
Swish.
The gym erupted in chaos, cheers exploding from the stands as our bench stormed the court. But I didn’t move, not right away. My eyes scanned the crowd until I found her—Betty.
She was running toward me before I even had time to react, her arms wrapping around my neck as she collided into me.
"You were incredible," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear.
I grinned, the weight in my chest finally lifting. "Told you I’d handle it."
Her laugh was soft, but it was enough to make every ache and bruise from the game feel worth it. I tightened my arms around her, letting the noise of the gym fade into the background. For the first time that night, I felt like I could breathe.