The night air outside the Staples Center still buzzed with leftover victory.
Alex Ramirez jogged down the players' tunnel, sweat-soaked jersey clinging to every carved line of his chest, the California Suns' gold-and-purple logo glowing under the fluorescent lights like a brand-new tattoo. Another triple-double. Another "Alex is inevitable" headline already writing itself. Fans had chanted his name until their throats turned raw, and for a few glorious minutes he'd let himself believe the roar could drown out every ghost he still carried.
Then he saw Ethan.
