Love on the Line (Beaumont Legacy #2)

7. Maya

Chapter seven

Maya

S earing pain slammed through Maya’s wrist as Grayson, her friend and new physical therapist, tried to figure out her wrist’s limits.

“Ouch,” she croaked.

Maya’s motivation had been peeking through and then dissipating since her brothers had first visited her a month ago. Delilah’s visit and Cooper’s story about his brother had helped with her motivation too, but what had finally pushed her was the idea she’d come up with a few days ago to start a charity. The moment she’d gotten back to Los Angeles, Maya had outlined her next steps, and going to physical therapy was at the top of the list .

She could be strong for her brothers. For her mother, who she knew—even without being able to hear her—was watching her.

For herself.

And for all those children she might be able to help one day.

It wasn’t like the emotional turmoil she’d been feeling had just suddenly gotten better. Maya still didn’t feel like much more than a shell of herself. But basic tasks had gotten marginally easier, and she pushed through them the best that she could.

“Sorry,” Grayson murmured. His eyes cut to hers below his light-brown, shaggy bangs, and she couldn’t help but look away, knowing she would break under the disappointment she saw there. Maya had met Grayson when he’d worked on the tour, and they’d become good friends. He’d established a practice in Los Angeles and had been generous enough to offer to see her for free every other Tuesday until she was back on her feet.

“Maya, it’s been seven weeks since the surgery. You should’ve been in four weeks ago when the cast came off.”

She grimaced. Grayson was absolutely right, and Maya had no excuse. Her first appointment should’ve been right before her brothers came to visit, but instead, she’d been wallowing in the world’s biggest pity party on the floor of her childhood home.

“I know,” Maya mumbled .

“Okay, well, your range of motion is clearly inhibited. Let’s check your grip strength and then get started on the basic exercises you should have been doing at home,” he declared pointedly.

With a sheepish smile, Maya tucked her hair behind her ear and picked up the little machine she was meant to squeeze in order to get a reading on her strength. At Grayson’s frown, she knew it was not nearly what it should’ve been.

“Maya, have you been doing anything you were supposed to? Even the band work?”

Her finger found the tips of her hair, wrapping them around it as she once again did everything she could not to make eye contact with him.

“Not really.”

“And why’s that?”

“Haven’t really had much motivation since Dr. Jeffords…since I found out I can’t play tennis anymore.”

“Well, not on the tour. You’ll still be able to play at a less competitive level. But I understand. A lot of athletes feel that way,” Grayson murmured. “Does you coming in today mean you’ve found a reason to try?”

Maya’s mind flashed to herself on a tennis court with a bunch of kids laughing and smiling around her. Then, for some unknown reason, it flashed with Cooper’s face, his dirty-blond hair mussed from running his hands through it, blue eyes sparkling, face cloaked in a hint of stubble.

“Something like that. ”

Grayson held out a hand to help her off the tall exam table, walking over to the other side of the room to grab a set of bands, two-pound dumbbells, and a squeeze ball. He set them down beside her.

“You know what to do.”

For the first time in two months, since before she’d reinjured her wrist, Maya winced through her exercises, hoping that, with every rep, she was building herself up enough to one day play the sport she loved so much, even at a lower level.

Maya let out a hiss of pain as she sat at her dining table, wrist still sore from her physical therapy appointment earlier that morning. She knew if she’d decided to go sooner, it wouldn’t have hurt so badly, but she tried to be proud of herself for going at all.

She laid out her ideas and to-do lists for the charity so she could take them all in. Maya had researched how to start one the last few days, and it’d only made her less sure she was capable of doing this.

Maya called her sponsors to ask if they would be willing to donate once she got a new bank account up and ready for the cause, but they told her that now that she wasn’t playing, they had no reason to commit to that. Disheartening, but not all that surprising. They did offer to provide a few rackets and baskets of balls, which she was thankful for.

Next, she turned to her network, though she hated begging for favors from everyone she knew. It was embarrassing and went against everything she had made of herself, but she didn’t have much of a choice.

Inevitably, she got questions about her injury and recovery, and she pretended she was doing better than she was because she didn’t have time or energy to get into how difficult it had been so far.

Few knew of foundations that donated to charities such as this one. Even fewer thought they’d ever be able to coach. After all, most were from the academy in Florida and were on tour. They all offered their well wishes and told her they’d reach out if they were ever in the area, but Maya didn’t want to hold her breath.

At the very least, she hoped these calls were generating buzz in the community, enough to convince even one person her cause was a worthy one.

Next, she texted her friends about the idea. Maya told them she knew they were too busy to help day to day, but she’d love it if they’d come by if they were ever free. She also let them know there would always be a place on the board for them.

Maya would have to keep the charity small, nothing fancy, no big organization. Maybe one day she could expand, once it grew legs and showed people what it could do. But at the very least, she would need a vice president and some coordinators to help her out.

She was frustrated. Everything required money, and money’s what she didn’t have. Even the items Maya had worked through weren’t figured out. She didn’t have set coaches, she didn’t know if she had enough equipment, she didn’t have funding. And she still had to figure out transportation, advertising, and a facility that would let her use their courts a few hours a week. Not to mention garnering enough interest to draw in the families of kids in the community.

Maya set her head on the table and took two deep breaths in and out. She wouldn’t give up. She’d worked her whole life so she could make her own way in the world. She’d spent more blood, sweat, and tears than most people out on that tennis court so she could get a scholarship to Crestview, then she’d worked harder than anyone on her team to make it to the pros. She’d learned to do things on her own.

Her brothers’ legacies were football, but hers was going to be this damn charity, because if there was one single thing she’d taken away from her mother’s life, it was the need to give back.

Maya opened her computer and started making note of all the courts in the area, specifically ones closer to the less affluent neighborhoods in Los Angeles. Just as she typed in the number for the first one, Delilah’s contact flashed across her screen.

Before Maya even had a second to greet her, Delilah asked, “Is it true? Are you really starting a charity for underprivileged kids? ”

Maya’s eyes welled up a bit, and she cleared her throat. “Yeah, Del. After we talked and I remembered how much it impacted your life, I thought it might be a great way to help kids like you here, even if it just helps families with after school care, you know? And if I can actually get it up and running, which is proving more difficult by the second, then I can still be in this world, still coach but do something that truly helps people,” Maya rambled.

There was a sob and then, “You are one of my most favorite people, Mai.”

A tear slipped down Maya’s face before she could stop it. “And you’re mine.”

Delilah murmured fervently, “Anything you need when I’m free, just tell me. Any time I can get away from tournaments and training. You just tell me what I can do and I’ll be there. I’ll talk to some people to find coaches around you.”

Maya wiped at her face once more, resting her elbow on the table, her face in her palm. “Just knowing I have your support is all I could ever ask for. I hope I can do you justice with this.”

A hiccup from the other side of the phone. “Don’t you say things like that to me right now! I’m already very emotional,” Delilah all but wailed.

Maya smiled, and she knew no matter how hard this path was going to be, she would put in the work to make a difference. For her mother and for Delilah, and for all the kids like her best friend who just needed a chance.

“I mean it, Del. You’re so inspiring.”

“I love you, Mai. So much. I was mid practice match when I saw your text, and now I’m getting glared at, so I have to go and attempt to get it together enough to finish, but I can’t wait to be a part of this. Keep me in the loop for everything.”

“I love you more. Kick whoever’s ass you’re playing.”

Delilah snickered. “Roger. See you soon.”

“See you soon,” Maya echoed before clicking out of the call. Nicola, Harper, and Sahar had all sent sweet messages during the conversation, offering their help whenever they were available.

Despair slipped away as Maya made separate notes beside transportation and advertising that read need funding and courts first , and then she called the first facility she’d found, feeling almost rejuvenated.

It would all be worth it. She knew it would be.