“So you know I’m ex-army?”

“Yes, sir.”

Then the familiar sound of a basketball bouncing on the hardwood floors echoed through the stadium. Followed by more bounces. Feet shuffling. Shoes scraping. I sat up in my chair and leaned forward, waiting for the moment the players walked out.

“You look like a kid that’s seeing his heroes up close for the first time.”

I laughed. “I am.”

“You could be someone’s hero.” He stood up and patted me on the back. “In fact, according to your girlfriend and the skateball league, you already are.”

I shook my head and let out a disbelieving sigh. “Chloe,” I mumbled.

“Chloe,” he repeated, throwing his hand out for me to take, “is probably waiting for you outside.”

I gripped his hand, and he helped me to stand.

“I’ll walk you out.”

She was sitting under a tree, earphones in, bopping her head. It reminded me of her in high school. High school. It sounded so long ago.

“I’d keep her,” Coach joked.

“I plan to, sir.”

She smiled and pulled out her earphones when I came into view. “How was it?”

I sat down next to her. “I don’t think I have the words right now.”

She reared back in mock horror, holding her hand to her heart. “Blake Hunter, speechless? I never thought I’d see the day.”

I nudged her side with my elbow. “We missed the bank.”

“Oh yeah, about that . . . There was no bank.” She batted her eyelashes.

I sat there, and I watched her, because I couldn’t take my eyes off her if I’d tried. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. But then I asked her something that’d been bugging me ever since I’d realized she’d chosen to take me there. “Why did you do this? Come here . . . organize all this?”

“I just wanted to give you the opportunity to make your own choices. That’s what you wanted, right? To be able to choose your own future?”

I couldn’t answer.

Her eyes narrowed in confusion, but she added, “I think your dad’s probably been drilling army into your head since you were a kid. It’s only been what . . . two years since you started taking basketball seriously? Or the other way around, really. Basketball started taking you seriously. I don’t know, Blake. I just thought if you were here, if you got to meet Coach, got to see the campus, got to see the facilities, maybe Duke would be on an even playing field?”

I just shook my head, unable to form any words. Unable to believe what she was saying, and what she had done for me. So I changed the subject. “What did you do while I was gone?”

She sat up straighter and scooted her crossed legs closer to me. “Actually, I went into town and looked around.”

“Yeah? Is there something you want to check out tomorrow?”

She sighed. “No, Blake. I mean I checked out houses and stuff, to live in, for me to rent. Or us. For us to rent.”

“What?” I wasn’t sure if I’d heard her right or if I’d just wanted to hear what she’d said so badly that I’d dreamed her words.

“If you want to . . . I was thinking, if you go to Duke, we could rent somewhere close. I don’t know if you want to live on campus, but it’s not really my thing . . . so if you want to, you can live here, and I’ll live there . . .”

“And if I choose the army?”

“Well . . . I checked out the area. I like it. If you do decide army . . . I’ll wait for you.”

“You’ll wait for me?” I asked. I had to make sure that I understood exactly what she was saying.

“Yes,” she said quietly, looking down at the space between us.

“Chloe. Are we doing this? Making plans? You’re making plans?”

She nodded.

“With me? You’re making plans with me?”

She nodded again. And she must have seen the elation on my face, because she smiled.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Blake, I’m sure.”

“Best red-letter day in the history of the world.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Chloe

If I could dream the same dream, a million times over, it would be of you—sleeping peacefully in my arms, every morning, for the rest of my life. Gone for a run, beautiful girl.

That was what the note on his pillow said when I woke up. Red ink. How could you not love him when he said things like that?

“You wanna just stay here for a couple of days? We can have a proper look around, see if we really wanna live here?”

He pushed off his arms. “Forty-eight,” he said, before moving in to kiss me.

It was one of the best parts of my day. When he came back from his morning run and did his sit-ups and push-ups in front of me. Shirtless. Sweaty. Showing off muscles I’d never known existed. I watched, my head on the edge of the bed, and after each one, he’d kiss me. He said it was his motivation to keep going. To keep pushing himself. He said I was his reward. “That sounds great.”

“How many more?”

“Fifty-one.” He kissed me again.

“I wonder if I could do a hundred push-ups.” I got out of bed and got on all fours next to him.

Arms outstretched, he watched as I got into position. And then he laughed so hard that his arms buckled beneath him and he fell on the floor. “I dare you!”

“It can’t be that hard.”