At the Right Time

Chapter Three

Maxwell ~ Present

I sit with my head in my hands, alone in my hotel suite. I nurse a cup of coffee to counteract the hangover I earned from my night of drinking.

I didn't party. I drank. There's a difference.

One is what you do when you're celebrating, the other is what you do to forget. That's what I wanted to do. Forget.

It should've been a party. I should have spent last night on cloud nine, drinking with my teammates and being congratulated.

Nope. I spent the majority of my night getting X-rays done on my wrist.

My wrist is fine. My pride is not.

I fucking ruined it.

If I wouldn't have fallen, I'd have taken my team to the finals.

Now, the season is over and we're all getting ready to take two months off.

ESPN plays softly from the TV, adding to my pity party.

"Maxwell Rossi landed wrong last night in quarter four of game seven. The two teams were neck and neck, until Rossi was taken out and Houston got several points ahead."

"That's right, Jackie. Fans are going wild on social media about how New Orleans would've taken the victory, had number five not been hurt."

"And he's okay, right?"

"Yes." The man says, "He's fine. A slight sprain and that's all. But this is unfortunate for New Orleans, and especially for Rossi. This being his fourth year in the NBA, his contract is being looked at. New Orleans will decide if they want to keep him or not, while other coaches are deciding if they'd want to try and take him."

"Right. Not looking good for Rossi. Such a simple injury cost the game, and maybe his future in the NBA, too."

I hit the power button on the remote, killing the TV.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I'm a great player and they know it. I'm valuable to the team. Last night was a fluke, and not my fault. They'll know that.

I hope.

My phone buzzing snaps me out of my thoughts. I take a deep breath, not wanting to answer, but knowing I need to.

"Mom."

"Oh, Max. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"What happened was awful, dear, but it wasn't your fault."

"Thanks."

"All that matters is that you're okay. What will you be doing now?"

"Going home."

"To New Orleans?"

I sigh quietly. It's been too long since I've been to Atlanta. I know my family misses me.

I've been debating going back for a while. Maybe this is my sign. This could be the time.

It would be good for me to step out of the spotlight awhile.

I think back to a conversation I had the other day, and my chest tightens.

"When the time is right, you'll know."

"Actually, mom." I make my mind up and say it before I can change it, "I think I'll come to Atlanta."