Chapter 8

A few days later, a young woman named Rachel DeSantos arrives at Buckhead Baptist Church gym and sits in the bleachers. Rachel is a 27-year-old woman who has an athletic and glamorous appearance. She has long, brown hair that she often styles in sleek, straight looks or loose waves, giving her a polished and put-together look. She has striking facial features, with a symmetrical face, high cheekbones, and full lips. She has bright brown eyes that add to her engaging presence. Rachel maintains a fit and athletic physique, which reflects her background as a former basketball player. Her style typically blends sporty and chic elements. Overall, Rachel exudes confidence and professionalism while maintaining a relatable and approachable vibe. Rachel stepped into the gym, the faint scent of polished wood and sweat filling the air. The buzz of sneakers squeaking against the hardwood mixed with the rhythmic bounce of the basketball. She had just come from work, still dressed in a chic yet professional outfit, a fitted black blouse, slim beige slacks, and sleek nude stilettos. Her long brown hair was still perfectly styled from her last on-camera segment.

Sliding into the bleachers, she crossed her legs and leaned forward slightly, watching as Trevor’s rec basketball team warmed up.

Trevor Bauer, her boyfriend, was already on the court, going through a casual layup drill. He was a solid player, a lethal shooter with decent size. He had always played in these recreational leagues to stay in shape and because he genuinely enjoyed basketball. Rachel wasn’t exactly expecting NBA-level competition, but she still liked supporting Trevor.

Or so she thought. Because the moment the game tipped off, her eyes landed on someone else.

He was on the opposing team. Tall. Light-skinned. Built like a natural athlete, but smooth with his movements. Rachel’s brows lifted slightly as she watched him get the ball on the wing, effortlessly shimmy past his defender with a clean spin move before pulling up for a jumper.

Swish. Damn. That was nice.

Rachel leaned in, her interest piqued. The game continued, and it quickly became clear. This guy wasn’t just good. He was different. Fluid footwork. A polished offensive game. A natural rhythm to his movements. Confidence, but not cockiness. Rachel found herself completely locked in on him, watching his every move.

Who the hell was he?

Trevor was playing admirably, but his team was getting worked, mostly because they had no answer for the guy Rachel couldn’t stop watching. He was everywhere. Pull-up jumpers from midrange. Smooth finishes at the rim. Crossovers that left defenders stumbling. Even solid defense, mostly making life very difficult for whoever he guarded. Rachel bit the inside of her cheek, holding back a smirk. Trevor had never mentioned this guy before. And judging by the way his team looked frustrated, she doubted they had played against him before. Rachel glanced down at her watch. Trevor’s team was down double digits. She should probably be more focused on supporting her boyfriend. But she wasn’t. Her eyes kept drifting back to the man dominating the game. Who was he? And more importantly ... Why did she suddenly want to find out?

After the game, Rachel and Trevor go to dinner together at Longhorn. Trevor was still bitter about the game. Rachel and Trevor walked into Longhorn Steakhouse, the scent of sizzling steaks and freshly baked bread filling the air. It was late, and the restaurant wasn’t too crowded, which was fine by Rachel. She wasn’t in the mood for too much noise, not with her mind still turning. She and Trevor were seated in a cozy booth near the back. Trevor immediately launched into a rant about the game before their menus were even opened.

“Refs were terrible,” Trevor muttered as he picked up the menu. “Some of the worst calls I’ve seen in this league. They let them get away with so much contact.”

Rachel hummed, pretending to listen. She knew how this went. Every time he lost, it was always the refs. Never him.

Trevor shook his head, flipping to the steak section. “And that number 12? He thinks he’s hot shit, but let me guard him for a full game and I’ll shut that shit down.”

Rachel’s ears perked up slightly. Number 12. That was him.

She took a sip of her water, keeping her face neutral. “What team was that y’all were playing?”

Trevor barely looked up. “The Ballers. Pretty dumb name if you ask me.”

Rachel smirked behind her glass. Yeah, okay, Mr. ‘Elite Hoopers’ isn’t much better. She set her cup down, casually adding, “Have you played them before?”

“Nah, they’re new to the league this year,” Trevor responded.

New. That explained why she had never seen him before. Rachel nodded, pretending to be interested in the menu while her thoughts kept circling. Asking Trevor anything else about the mystery player would be too obvious. Especially with how bitter he was. So, instead? She would just find out herself. Rachel secretly decided she would look up the league website. Maybe they had a roster list or some kind of team info. Then, heck, maybe she’d check social media. People loved posting highlights. Maybe she could find something. Because no matter how much she tried to ignore it ... She wanted to know who he was. And more importantly, why she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

That night in her bed, Rachel lay in bed, phone screen glowing in the darkness, her fingers idly scrolling through the Buckhead Recreational Sports website. She had told herself she was just checking the league schedule. That was all. But the moment she saw it: The Ballers. Thursday, 8 PM. Her stomach did a small flip. Trevor’s team had no game that night. Which meant she had no real reason to be there. Except ... Except she wanted to be.

Rachel sighed, setting her phone down and rubbing her hands over her face. What am I doing? She had a boyfriend. A long-term one. Sure, Trevor wasn’t perfect. He was self-absorbed, a little whiny when things didn’t go his way, and could be predictable as hell. But he was good to her. And this? This was not safe. Rachel stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts at war with themselves.

She didn’t even know this guy’s name. She had only seen him play for the first time tonight. Why did she care so much? She groaned, rolling onto her side, frustrated. But deep down, she already knew. It wasn’t just about basketball. It was about the way he carried himself. The way he played so smooth, so in control. The way he made her forget, for just a moment, that she was even there for Trevor. Rachel grabbed her phone again, staring at the Thursday game listing. Would she really ... go? Just to watch? Just to see him one more time? Her thumb hovered over the power button. Then, she sighed, locking her phone and tossing it onto the nightstand. She needed to sleep. She’d figure this out later. But deep down, she already knew. She was going.

On Thursday night, Rachel arrives to the gym right after the game between ‘the Ballers’ and their opponent tipped off. She slipped into the gym quietly, keeping her head down as she found a seat higher up in the bleachers. She had told herself all day that she wasn’t coming. But here she was. Once she settled in and looked to the court, her eyes immediately found him. The mystery player. Tall. Smooth. Confident. And just as captivating as before. Rachel crossed her legs, feigning casual indifference, but the truth was she was locked in. Tonight, she wasn’t just watching. She was analyzing. His footwork was insanely polished. His ball control was smooth and efficient. His shooting form was excellent and he was deadly from midrange. And on top of that, his court awareness was next level for a rec league. He wasn’t just athletic. He was skilled. Rachel knew good basketball. And this guy? He was the real deal. She leaned forward slightly, watching as he got the ball on the wing, faked a drive, then smoothly stepped back into a jumper. Swish. Effortless. Rachel’s lips parted slightly in admiration before she caught herself. Focus, Rachel. But then ... it happened.

As he backpedaled down the court, his eyes suddenly lifted ... right to her. For a split second, Rachel froze. Her heart stopped. Her stomach did an uncontrollable flip. Had he just...? No. No way. It was just a coincidence. Right? Rachel quickly looked away, pretending to check her phone, but her pulse was racing. Had he noticed her? Had he seen her last game too? Or was she just imagining things? She had no idea. But suddenly, sitting here felt a lot more dangerous. Rachel swallowed hard, forcing herself to stare at her phone screen like she hadn’t just made eye contact with the one player she was trying not to obsess over. It was just a coincidence. He wasn’t actually looking at her. Right? Rachel tried to refocus on the game, but now she was hyper-aware. And the more she watched ... The more she swore he kept glancing her way. Rachel sat with perfect posture, legs crossed, trying to act completely casual. But every time he drained a smooth midrange jumper, or sliced through defenders for a layup, or sank a deep three with effortless confidence ... his eyes flickered toward the bleachers. Toward her. Rachel’s stomach tightened. No. Stop. She was imagining things. Wasn’t she? Rachel pressed her fingers to her temple, willing herself to get it together. She had a boyfriend. She had no business sitting here feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush. And yet, the way this guy moved, the way he played, she couldn’t look away. Her breath hitched slightly as he caught the ball, did a single head fake, and pulled up for a three-pointer. Swish. And just before he turned to run back down the court ... His eyes flickered up again. Rachel’s lips parted.

Oh, God. This was bad.

About an hour later, Rachel sat completely still as the final buzzer echoed through the gym. The Ballers had won easily. Not surprising, considering who was leading them. She forced herself to casually grab her purse, and start to walk down the bleachers, pretending to check her phone as the teams shook hands at center court. But she could feel it. A shift. A change in the air. Like someone was moving toward her. She didn’t dare look up. But she didn’t need to. Because within seconds. A deep, smooth voice cut through the post-game noise.

“You enjoy the game?”

Rachel’s breath hitched. Slowly, she looked up, and there he was. Standing at the edge of the bleachers, looking directly at her, was him. The mystery player. Up close, he was even more striking. Tall. Broad shoulders. Light skin with a clean fade and a short beard that framed his strong jawline. And his eyes. A deep, unreadable gaze that locked onto hers like he was already reading her thoughts.

Rachel’s pulse skyrocketed. For a second, she couldn’t speak. Then she somehow managed to find her voice. “You played well.”

Way to play it cool, Rachel.

A small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Appreciate that. Didn’t think I had any fans.”

Rachel bit the inside of her cheek, shifting slightly in her seat. “I was just ... checking out the competition.”

His grin widened just slightly. “Competition for who?”

Rachel froze. Damn. He was sharp. And now? He was interested.

He watched her carefully, intrigued. He had definitely seen her last game. And she came back tonight. She wasn’t here by accident. And he wanted to know why. So, he asked, “What’s your name?”

Rachel hesitated. This was a line. A step into something dangerous. But as she looked into his eyes, feeling the pull she couldn’t explain ... She answered anyway. “Rachel.”

He nodded, a satisfied expression crossing his face. “Nice to meet you, Rachel. I’m Jalen.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Now she had a name. And suddenly? Leaving felt impossible.

The moment Rachel had said her name, Jalen felt it. That feeling. The same warm pull that had stopped him in his tracks before. First with Sydney. Then with Kristen. Then with Megan. And now ... Rachel. His stomach tightened.

No. No way. This wasn’t happening. Not here. Not now.

But it was. And deep down, he already knew. Rachel DeSantos was one of them. One of the eight women he was destined to conceive a child with.

Jalen blinked, forcing himself to stay calm.

Rachel tilted her head slightly. “You okay?”

Jalen cleared his throat, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just ... thinking.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Thinking about what?”

Jalen hesitated. What the hell was he supposed to say? “Thinking about how you’re apparently meant to have my child?” The thought sounded so absurd.

Yeah, no. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and shrugged lightly. “Just wondering why you’re really here.”

Rachel stiffened slightly but recovered fast. “I told you. Checking out the competition.”

Jalen smirked. “And yet, your man’s team wasn’t even playing tonight.”

Rachel’s stomach did a flip. Busted.

She looked away, exhaling a small laugh. “Maybe I just like basketball.”

Jalen’s gaze softened as he studied her. She was lying to herself. Maybe she didn’t even realize why she was drawn to him yet. But he did. And that? That changed everything. Jalen felt his pulse pounding. This was dangerous. Rachel had a boyfriend. He could tell that she was already fighting whatever attraction she might have been feeling for him. And now? Now he had to pretend like she wasn’t literally meant to be carrying his child someday. How the hell was he supposed to handle this? He needed to think. Needed to process. But before he could say anything else, Rachel grabbed her purse and turned towards the exit.

“I should go,” she said.

Jalen blinked, surprised. “You sure?”

Rachel hesitated, like she was second-guessing herself. But then, she nodded. “Yeah. But ... maybe I’ll see you around.”

Jalen didn’t move. He just watched her turn and head toward the exit, her heels clicking against the gym floor. And as she walked away, he exhaled sharply.

Shit.

Rachel walked briskly out of the gym, making her way to her car. Her heart was still pounding. What the hell was that? She slid into the driver’s seat, closed the door, and gripped the steering wheel tightly. This is done. I’m done. She wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t doing this. She had a boyfriend. Trevor was good and safe. And Jalen? He was dangerous.

Rachel got into her car. She took a slow, deep breath, staring at her own reflection in the rearview mirror. She barely knew him. It was just basketball curiosity. It didn’t mean anything. Right?

Then why the hell was her stomach still tight? Why was she still feeling the imprint of his deep brown eyes locking onto hers? Rachel groaned, tilting her head back against the seat. No. Stop. Done. She grabbed her phone, determined to focus on Trevor. But as she opened their last text thread, she hesitated. Their last conversation? Trevor ranting about his fantasy football team. Nothing about her. Nothing about their life. Nothing about how she was feeling. Rachel stared at the screen. And for the first time ... She felt completely disconnected from him.

Rachel exhaled and leaned back, closing her eyes. She could tell herself she was done with Jalen. That she was walking away. That this was over before it even started. But deep down? She already knew the truth. She wasn’t done. Not even close. And that? That was what scared her the most.

Rachel texted Trevor. “Hey, can I come over?”

Trevor responds a minute later: “Yeah. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Rachel: “I’m fine. I just want to see you.”

Trevor: “Well sure. Come over.”

Fifteen minutes later, Rachel pulled into Trevor’s apartment complex, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. She had told herself she needed this. Needed to ground herself. Needed to remind herself why she was in this relationship in the first place. Because if she was being honest ... She was starting to feel lost.

Trevor greeted her at the door, wearing his usual sweats and a T-shirt, a bottle of beer in his hand. “Hey, babe.” He leaned in, kissing her cheek. “Come on in.”

Rachel walked inside, setting her purse on the counter, feeling the weight of her own thoughts.

She didn’t waste time. “Trevor, I’ve been feeling ... off lately.”

Trevor frowned. “Off how?”

Rachel crossed her arms, choosing her words carefully. “I just don’t feel ... seen. Or fully appreciated.”

Trevor looked caught off guard. “What? Rachel, of course, I appreciate you.”

Rachel nodded but pressed on. “I know you do, but ... sometimes I feel like you’re just going through the motions with me. Like I’m just ... there.”

Trevor sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Damn. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Well, I do.”

There was a long pause. Then..., “I’m sorry,” Trevor said.

Rachel blinked, surprised at how quickly he folded.

“I don’t want you feeling like that,” Trevor continued. “I’ll do better, okay? I promise.”

Rachel searched his face, feeling a wave of relief. Maybe she had been overthinking things. Maybe all she needed was for him to actually listen. And now that he had, maybe she could finally move on from whatever the hell had been distracting her.

Trevor wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, and she found herself closing her eyes. Rachel’s thoughts were still racing. This is good. Trevor cares. Trevor is trying.

She pulled back and smiled at him, trying to believe it. “Okay.”

Trevor grinned. “Okay.”

Rachel leaned into him, willing herself to be fully present. Trevor pulled her into a deep kiss and Rachel responded in-kind by wrapping her arms around his neck. They continued to kiss until Rachel pulled back and led Trevor to his bedroom. They stripped off their clothes and climbed into the bed. Rachel kept her bra on. Trevor grabbed a condom and Rachel helped him by stroking his cock a few times until it got hard enough for him to strap it on properly before he climbed on top of her. She guided his cock to the entrance of her vagina where Trevor pushed inside of her. Rachel felt his cock slide back and forth inside just as she felt numerous times before. It felt fine. Rachel lay beneath Trevor, eyes closed, breath steady, trying, really trying, to be present with him.This was her boyfriend. The man she’d been with for two years. The man who had just apologized. The man who was trying. But as Trevor’s hands moved over her skin, continued to thrust inside of her, he whispered sweet nothings in her ear, as he kissed along her neck ... Jalen’s face kept flashing in her mind. His intense gaze. His deep, smooth voice. His presence. And worst of all? The way he had looked at her after his game, like he knew something she didn’t. She clenched her fists against the sheets, willing herself to focus. Focus on Trevor. Focus on the moment. But no matter how much she tried; she couldn’t shake it. She felt ... Disconnected. Detached, even as Trevor moved inside her.

Her body was going through the motions, but her mind was elsewhere. And she hated it. She hated that Trevor was here, but Jalen was the one lingering in her head. This isn’t fair. This isn’t right. And yet, it was happening anyway. A few minutes later, Trevor came and then pulled out of her. He pulled his condom off, now filled with his semen, and tossed it in a trash can nearby. He then kissed her forehead after, satisfied and relaxed, completely unaware of the battle happening in Rachel’s mind.

“You okay?” he murmured, brushing her hair from her face.

Rachel forced a small smile, nodding. “Yeah. I’m good.”

But as Trevor drifted off to sleep beside her ... Rachel stared at the ceiling. Her thoughts were louder than ever. Her stomach twisted. And deep down, she had never been more confused in her life.

The following week, Rachel’s employer, WSB-TV Channel 2-Atlanta, needed a fill-in story and her boss Nick Dozier asked her if she could do a piece on one of the local basketball Rec leagues (like the one Trevor and Jalen are in). Rachel sat at her desk, staring blankly at her computer screen. This was not the kind of assignment she wanted. She had dreams of covering the NBA. Sitting courtside at Hawks games, interviewing pro players, breaking down strategy, and making a name for herself. But instead? A local rec league? Rachel sighed, running a hand through her dark brown hair. She knew what this was. A filler piece. Something quick and easy because they needed to fill airtime.

“I don’t know if people will really gravitate toward this, Nick,” she had said.

But her boss, Nick Dozier, waved her off. “Trust me, Rachel, people eat this stuff up. It’s competitive, it’s got drama, it’s perfect for a feel-good sports segment. Just get the story done.”

That was it. End of discussion. Since Trevor played in the league, Rachel got a quick quote from him the following evening at his apartment.

“Even though it’s just a rec league, the competition gets intense,” he told her, adjusting his tie before heading to work. “A lot of these guys used to play in college or overseas, so nobody wants to lose.”

Rachel nodded, taking notes. But truthfully? She was just going through the motions. This wasn’t the story she wanted. She didn’t even want to go to the games on Thursday night. But she had a deadline. So, she’d go. She’d watch. She’d get the story. And then she’d be done with this. At least ... That’s what she told herself.

That Thursday night, Rachel arrived once again at Buckhead Baptist Church Gym. As soon as she stepped inside, she felt it. A tension she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. The sounds of sneakers squeaking against the floor. The echoing of the basketball bouncing. The roar of players calling out plays. She took a breath and scanned the court. And that’s when she saw them. One of the teams playing ... The Ballers. Her stomach tightened. Her fingers gripped her notepad. Because there, in the middle of the action, moving effortlessly, playing with confidence, completely in control of the game, was Jalen. Rachel felt frozen. Because despite everything she told herself, despite the promises that she was done thinking about him, here he was. And somehow, she already knew she was in trouble.

Jalen was locked in. His game was smooth, his shots were falling, and his team was in the lead. Then, midway through the second half ... Something shifted. Because when he turned toward the bleachers, looking over the crowd, he saw her. Rachel. Sitting with her notepad in her lap, wearing a fitted blazer over her blouse, trying to look professional. But Jalen wasn’t fooled. Because as much as she would try to deny it ... He saw it in her eyes. The way they lingered. The way she tensed when he looked at her. And that’s when it happened. That familiar warmth. That pull. That unmistakable feeling that had already happened three times before.

Rachel looked down instantly. No. Nope. Not happening. She wasn’t going to do this. She was here for work. She wasn’t here for him. And she sure as hell wasn’t about to sit here feeling something she didn’t want to feel. But as the game went on ... She kept glancing up. And every time she did? Jalen was already looking at her.

The Ballers won the game. Rachel snapped out of it, quickly jotting down her final notes, telling herself she’d just grab some quick interviews and get out of there. She had already planned to speak to one of the referees about the league’s competitiveness. Maybe even the league organizer if he was around. She had zero intention of talking to Jalen. But as she stood up and gathered her things ... She saw him walking toward her. Jalen had already toweled off, still wearing his jersey and shorts, his skin glistening with sweat.

He walked straight up to her, his expression calm but knowing. “Still just checking out the competition?”

Rachel forced a polite smile. “It’s for work. Doing a piece on the league.”

Jalen nodded, smirking. “Is that right?”

Rachel crossed her arms. “It is.”

Jalen tilted his head slightly, studying her. “And here I was thinking you were just checking up on me.”

Rachel’s stomach flipped. Her heart pounded. But she didn’t let it show.

Instead, she scoffed lightly. “Not everything is about you, Jalen.”

Jalen chuckled. “If you say so.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The sounds of the gym faded into the background. Rachel knew she should end this conversation. She should say “Nice game” and walk away.

But she didn’t. And neither did Jalen. Because even though neither of them wanted to admit it ... They both felt it. That pull. That tension. That undeniable thing growing between them. Rachel swallowed hard. She was in danger. Because she could feel it happening. The same thing she had promised herself she wouldn’t let happen. Unfortunately, for Rachel, she takes too long and realizes that the refs have already left for the night, which means she is unable to interview them for her story.

Shit.

Rachel clenched her jaw as she looked around the emptying gym. The referees were gone. Most of the players had already left. And the league organizer? Nowhere to be found. She had gotten so caught up in Jalen that she missed her chance to speak to the people she actually needed for her story. And now? Her only real interview option was standing right in front of her. Jalen. Jalen leaned against the bleachers, arms crossed, watching her carefully. He had noticed the moment she realized her mistake. And now, she was stalling. Trying to figure out a way out of this. But there wasn’t one. Rachel let out a slow breath, finally looking at him.

Jalen raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”

Rachel sighed. “You know damn well what the problem is.”

Jalen grinned, shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t think I do.”

Rachel gave him a look, then hesitated. She hated this. Hated that she had to do this. But her deadline was tomorrow. And like it or not, Jalen was her last shot at getting a decent interview. She had no choice.

Rachel groaned, rubbing her forehead. “I need a player interview.”

Jalen shrugged. “Sounds like a good idea.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “Would you just—damn it, Jalen, will you do the damn interview or not?”

Jalen chuckled, enjoying this way too much. Then he nodded. “I got you.”

Rachel exhaled, trying to ignore the relief that washed over her. She pulled out her notepad and phone recorder, preparing herself for what should be a professional, straightforward interview. But she already knew. Nothing about this was going to be straightforward.

Rachel started with the basics. “Tell me about your experience in the league.”

Jalen gave her a solid answer, talking about the competition, the talent level, how the league attracted former college and overseas players. Fine. Good. Safe. She scribbled down notes.

Then she moved to the next question. “What’s your approach to the game?”

Jalen smirked. “Same as my approach to life—keep my composure, take my time, and when I see the right opening ... go all in.”

Rachel’s pen stopped mid-sentence. She knew that wasn’t just about basketball. Their eyes locked. Her heart pounded. But she refused to let him get to her.

Rachel forced herself to focus. “And what would you say sets you apart from the other players in the league?”

Jalen leaned in slightly. “I know what I want. And when I see it, I don’t waste time pretending I don’t.”

Rachel swallowed hard. Okay. This wasn’t just flirting. This was a challenge. A silent dare hanging between them. Rachel knew she should shut it down. Keep it strictly professional. But instead ... She let the tension simmer. Let it linger just a little longer. Because as much as she hated to admit it ... She liked it. Way too much. Rachel forced herself to regain control. She quickly asked a few safe questions like his favorite moment in the league, thoughts on team chemistry, etc. Jalen answered them perfectly. By the time she finished, she had more than enough material. This was supposed to be it. Interview done. Story secured. Time to leave. But as Rachel stood up to go ... Jalen casually asked, “So, you coming to my next game?”

Rachel froze. She turned back toward him. “Why would I?”

Jalen gave her a slow, knowing smile. “The same reason you came to my last one.”

Rachel’s chest tightened. She had no words. No excuse. No real denial that would sound convincing. Because deep down? She already knew she’d be right back here next week. Watching. Waiting. Even if she told herself otherwise. Rachel quickly gathered her things and turned for the exit.

“Goodnight, Jalen.”

As she walked out of the gym, she could feel his eyes on her. And she hated how much she didn’t want him to stop looking.

“Rachel wait!”

Oh God. Now what?

Jalen jogs up to her where her car was. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I was a little too flippant back there. And I want to take your interview more seriously.”

“Yeah? How so?” Rachel asks skeptical.

“I’d like to tell you about how my dad helped me relate basketball to life. How he used to take me to the outside courts as a kid and hoop with me. How he taught me a lot of lessons using basketball before he...,” Jalen pauses, “Before he died.”