Chapter Seven

The Las Vegas heat hit different in July. I was leaving practice, tired and sweaty, my muscles aching from Coach's intense defensive drills, when Bam caught me in the parking lot. The Heat were in town for some promotional event with the Summer league, which meant he'd been "coincidentally" showing up everywhere I was for the past three days.

"A'ja! Hold up!" he called out, jogging over to my car. I suppressed a sigh, plastering on my media smile – the same one I used during postgame interviews after a tough loss. My teammates called it my "I'd rather be anywhere else" face.

"What's up, Bam?" I kept my voice neutral, very aware of the phone cameras that always seemed to appear whenever we were around each other. The NBA-WNBA "friendship" narrative was getting old, especially since Bam never seemed to get the hint that I wasn't interested. Ever since we hosted that basketball camp together last summer, he'd been relentless with his pursuit, despite my very public relationship with Jordyn.

"Some of us are hitting up Drai's tonight. You should come through." He leaned against my car door, effectively blocking me from getting in. His 6'9" frame cast a shadow over me, and I felt my jaw clench at the intrusion of personal space. "I know you're not doing anything else."

If he'd been paying attention, he'd know I had a FaceTime date with Jordyn planned. We hadn't talked properly in days with her team's hectic schedule, and I was looking forward to having her undivided attention. Last time we spoke, she'd seemed distant, distracted even, but she'd blamed it on game prep.

"Can't. Already got plans," I said, trying to step around him. The Vegas sun was beating down, and I could feel sweat trickling down my back.

"Come on, A. When are you gonna give me a real chance?" He stepped closer, that confident smile that probably worked on everyone else spreading across his face. The same smile Sports Illustrated had plastered across their NBA preview issue. "You can't keep playing hard to get forever. This little phase of yours... we both know it's not permanent."

"I'm not playing anything," I said firmly, feeling my patience wear thin. The comment about my relationship being a "phase" made my blood boil. "I'm very happily taken. You know this."

Angel, who'd been watching from her car, started walking over. She knew how uncomfortable Bam's persistent flirting made me, especially since the last time he'd shown up uninvited to our team dinner, trying to convince everyone we had "chemistry."

"A!" she called out, her voice carrying across the parking lot. "We're gonna be late for that team meeting!"

I shot her a grateful look, but before I could move, Bam caught my wrist. His grip wasn't tight, but the possession in the gesture made my skin crawl. "Just one drink. That's all I'm asking for. Let me show you what you're missing."

"She said no," Angel's voice was sharp as she reached us, her 6'1" frame squared up like she was ready to knock his big ass out. "Multiple times, actually. Take the hint and back off."

He dropped my wrist, raising his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes held something between amusement and challenge. "Alright, alright. But you know where to find me when you're done pretending."

The comment stung more than it should have. The insinuation that my relationship with Jordyn was just a phase was something I'd heard too many times, from too many people who thought they knew better. From sports commentators who called it a "close friendship," to social media trolls who claimed it was all for attention.

What I didn't know was that across the parking lot, partially hidden behind a pillar, Jordyn had witnessed the whole thing. She'd flown in to surprise me, coordinating with Angel and Jackie for weeks. But from her angle, all she could see was Bam's hand on my wrist, our bodies close together, and what looked like an intimate moment. She couldn't hear my protests or see my discomfort. All she saw was what she feared most – another person trying to steal what we had.

Later that night, when Jordyn wasn't answering my calls, I assumed she was just busy with family. Her bye week had just started, and she'd told me she was heading home to New Orleans. I left her a voice message, telling her about my day (minus the Bam incident) and how much I missed her. How the sunset reminded me of that time we'd watched it from Mount Charleston, how I'd found another Thai place that could almost compete with our favorite spot in NOLA.

The next morning, Jackie pulled me aside before practice, her usually playful expression replaced with concern.

"We need to talk," she said, her expression serious. "About yesterday."

"What about yesterday?"

She pulled out her phone, showing me a text from Jordyn that made my heart stop: "Thanks for trying to help with the surprise, but I shouldn't have come. Tell A'ja I hope she's happy with her choice. I won't be the girl who fights for someone who doesn't want to be fought for."

My stomach dropped. "What surprise? Jackie, what's going on?"

"Jordyn flew in yesterday to surprise you," Angel joined us, looking worried. She was still in her practice shorts, having rushed over when she saw my face. "She was supposed to hide out at my place until after practice, but she said she wanted to scope out the facility first. She must have seen you and Bam."

"Seen me and... oh god." The realization hit me like a defensive tackle. "No, no, no. You have to tell her what really happened!"

"She's not answering anyone's calls," Jackie said softly. "And she blocked you on everything. Twitter, Instagram, even LinkedIn, girl."

I felt like I couldn't breathe. The thought of Jordyn thinking I'd betray her like that made me physically sick. "But nothing happened! I was trying to get away from him! Angel, tell her!"

"I've been trying baby, but she turned her phone off. Kah said she booked an earlier flight back to New Orleans last night. Said something about 'seeing enough.'"

The next few days were torture. Every call went straight to voicemail. Every text remained undelivered. I even tried reaching out to her teammates, but they were clearly team Jordyn, giving me cold one-word responses. One even tweeted "Sometimes the brightest stars cast the darkest shadows" – which would have been deep if it wasn't so obviously about me.

"This is ridiculous," Angel said, watching me check my phone for the hundredth time during practice. I'd just airballed a free throw, something I hadn't done since my rookie year. "We need to fix this."

"How? She won't even let me explain!"

Angel was quiet for a moment. "What about her mama?"

My stomach twisted. Mrs. Love had never been my biggest fan – she'd made that clear from the start. Not because I was a woman, but because she thought dating a WNBA star like me would bring her daughter nothing but negative attention and heartache. The last time we'd visited, she'd barely spoken to me, just watched with worried eyes as Jordyn and I played with her younger sister in the backyard.

"She already thinks I'm not good enough for Jordyn," I said quietly, remembering how she'd pulled Jordyn aside at Christmas, probably to warn her about the perils of dating someone so public. "She told Jordyn that loving someone in the spotlight means always sharing them."

"Maybe that's exactly why you need to call her," Jackie chimed in, sitting beside me on the bench. "Show her who you really are. Not A'ja Wilson the WNBA star, but A'ja Wilson, the girl who loves her daughter enough to face her biggest critic."

It took me three attempts to actually dial the number. Each ring felt like an eternity until finally she picked up.

"A'ja." Mrs. Love's voice was cool, reserved. "I assume this is about my daughter."

"Yes ma'am," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Angel and Jackie sat on either side of me, offering silent support. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but please... I need five minutes."

There was a long pause, filled only by the sound of something sizzling in the background – probably her famous gumbo that Jordyn couldn't stop talking about. "Five minutes."

I took a deep breath and told her everything – about Bam's persistent unwanted advances, about trying to maintain professionalism in public, about how sick I felt knowing Jordyn had seen something that wasn't there. I told her about the nights Jordyn and I spent planning our future, about how her daughter taught me to love without fear of judgment. My voice cracked when I got to the part about not being able to reach her.

"I love your daughter, Mrs.Love," I said, wiping tears from my cheeks. Angel squeezed my hand. "I know you think this life is too complicated, too public for her. And maybe you're right. But she's the best part of my world, and it's not fair that I'm losing her over something that isn't even true."

The silence that followed felt endless. Then, unexpectedly, I heard her sigh – not in frustration, but in what sounded like understanding.

"You know why I've been hard on you?" she asked, her voice softer than I'd ever heard it. "Because I saw how my baby girl looked at you that first time she brought you home. Like you hung the moon and stars yourself. And in this world of social media and public speculation, I was terrified she'd get her heart broken."

"I would never—" I started, but she cut me off.

"I know that now," she said quietly. "I hear it in your voice. And baby girl, I owe you an apology. I've been so busy protecting Jordyn from what I thought would hurt her, I didn't see who was really doing the protecting."

I couldn't stop the sob that escaped my throat. Jackie wrapped an arm around my shoulders while Angel discreetly wiped her own eyes.

"Now, dry those tears," she continued, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "My daughter's stubborn – gets that from her daddy – but she's been crying on that couch for two days straight. Let me talk to her."

"Thank you," I whispered.

"And A'ja?" she added before hanging up. "Ma'am?" "Next time you're in New Orleans, you come by the house. I think it's time I learned how to make that banana pudding you love to make so much."

Two hours later, my phone lit up with Jordyn's face. I was in my backyard, trying to distract myself by practicing free throws, but the ball had long since rolled away.

"Mama said you called her," her voice was rough, like she'd been crying.

"I did."

"She also said I'm being stupid."

"She did?"

"And that if I let you go over a misunderstanding, I'm not the daughter she raised."

I laughed through my tears, sinking down onto the court. "Your mama's smart."

"Baby, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I should have trusted you. Should have talked to you. I just... seeing him touch you like that..."

"I know, Jordy. But you've got to know – you're it for me. No NBA player, no amount of public pressure, nothing could change that. You're my endgame."

I heard her take a shaky breath. "I know baby. Mama also said something else."

"What's that?"

"She said next time I'm in Vegas, I better bring her with me. Apparently she needs to apologize to her future daughter-in-law in person."

My heart stopped. "Future..."

"Too soon?" I could hear her smile.

"Never," I whispered. "Now when are you coming home?"

"Already booked my flight. I'll be there tomorrow. We've got a lot to talk about."

"Yeah," I agreed, feeling hope bloom in my chest. "We do."

Sometimes the hardest person to win over isn't your love – it's the person who loves them most. And sometimes, what feels like your biggest obstacle can become your strongest ally.

That night, I got another text from her mom that made my heart smile.

Cara Love ( Jordy's mom): "Take care of my baby. And Welcome to the family A'ja♥️

Maybe she was right – the public life of a WNBA star was complicated. But with the right people in your corner, even the most tangled knots could come undone.

I fell asleep reading the last text from Jordyn: "17 hours until I'm home. I love you, no matter what anyone says or what it looks like. Forever.