He Came Back Running (Maya and Mason) novel Chapter 284

Chapter 284

Alex’s POV

The penthouse’s basketball court had been an amenity I had never used before this month.

Marketed to the building’s/residents as a rooftop feature, glass-walled on two sides with a view of the harbour that most people who booked time on the court probably didn’t notice, because most people who booked time were focused on the game rather than the skyline.

I had booked it for us.

The doctor’s instructions had been specific… moderate exercise, nothing strenuous, something that supported circulation without adding physical strain. Maya had looked at the recommendation list with the particular expression she wore when presented with instructions she found reasonable but was not naturally inclined to follow, and I had understood, without her needing to say it, that the exercise needed to be something that didn’t feel like exercise.

Basketball felt like something else.

We did two laps around the court’s perimeter first.

Slow.

The pace calibrated to what she could sustain rather than what either of us would have chosen a year ago…. Maya’s hand occasionally finding the wall for balance, her breathing steady but present in a way that reminded me, at every step, of exactly how much her body was carrying.

She gave in at the end of the second lap

Sat on the bench along the sideline, breathing….

“That’s enough for today,” she said.

“That’s enough for today,” I agreed.

I picked up the ball.

I took a shot.

It went in.

Took another.

Also in.

Maya watched from the bench with interest.

“You’re good at this,” she said.

I took a third shot.

In.

“I used to be better,” I said.

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She stood

Crossed to the free-throw line, watching as I moved through a sequence I hadn’t consciously performed in years…. the muscle memory of a body that had spent considerable time on courts like this one, decades ago, before the specific weight of running a maritime company had absorbed the hours that used to belong to this.

“Why didn’t you sign up for the NBA?” she said.

I looked at her.

At the genuine curiosity in the question… not flattery, not performance….

“My life wasn’t set up for that,” I said.

I took another shot.

Missed this one.

“My father had a company waiting for me before I was old enough to understand what that meant,” I said. ” By the time I was good enough to seriously consider it, I was already being groomed for something else. There wasn’t room for both paths.” I retrieved the ball. “I don’t think about it as a loss, exactly. It’s just the path that got built around me before I had the chance to build my own.”

Maya looked at me for a long moment.

“That’s a very generous way to describe giving up something you were clearly meant to do,” she said.

I smiled…

“Maybe,” I said.

We were still on the court when Marcus called.

I answered.

His voice had the controlled urgency of someone delivering something important without wanting to alarm the person he was reporting to.

“The black sedan,” he said. “The one that’s been near the building for the past several days. We tracked the driver on foot when he left the vehicle this morning….”

I looked at Maya, who had heard enough of my side of the conversation to understand something significant was happening.

“You found him,” I said.

“We had a visual,” Marcus said. “Male, mid-forties, professional presentation. He made us before we could close the distance. Ran into the market crowd on Beckett Street and we lost him in the density.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

“Gone,” I said.

“Gone,” Marcus confirmed. “We’re pulling any street camera footage available along his escape route, but I

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wanted you to know immediately rather than wait for confirmation”

“Thank you,” I said.

I ended the call.

I stood at the edge of the court, the ball still in my hands, looking out through the glass at the harbour beyond.

Someone had been watching Maya for days.

Close enough, patient enough, professional enough to evade a trained security team the moment they

closed distance….

But they had not approached her.

Had not attempted contact, had not attempted harm, had not done anything beyond the specific, sustained act of observation.

Which was its own kind of question.

Watching without acting suggested purpose.

Patience.

We entered the Penthouse….

Maya was in the sitting room when I arrived…. her father’s diary open on the table in front of her…

I sat beside her.

“I need to tell you something,” I said.

She looked up.

I told her about the sedan. About Marcus’s team tracking the driver on foot. About the man’s professional evasion into the market crowd, the competence that suggested training rather than amateur surveillance.

Her expression shifted as I spoke…

“Why would someone watch me like that?” she said. “For days. Without doing anything.”

I looked at the diary in her hands.

At the torn pages, the gaping absence at the binding where entries had once existed.

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