“Quarante-zéro,” the chair umpire said, but his voice was nearly drowned out by the crowd’s approval, shouts, and whistles and the pounding of thousands of hands together.
Match point. She had match point, and her ankle hurt so much it was actually pulsing inside her sneaker. The pain made it impossible to hold her focus, and the sounds from the crowd started to invade her ears—a blur of voices and noise that was actually helping distract her from the throbbing in her foot. One more, just one more.
Lutrova wasn’t having a great match, but she had to know what was coming now. She set up for the next serve a step behind the baseline, near the center of the court, cutting off the easiest route for an ace. What Lutrova didn’t know was that over the last month or so, Penny had learned something important. The easiest path wasn’t always the right one.
She launched her serve, a high kicker, skidding off the edge of the service line, spinning up and away.
“Jeu, set et match, Harrison: 6–4, 6–4.”
The stadium practically exploded around her, but Penny couldn’t move. She was frozen at the baseline, weight leaning entirely on her good ankle, using her racket to try to balance. She didn’t want to take a step, but she had to. The match was over; she needed to shake her opponent’s hand. She stared down at the court for a moment to catch herbreath, willing the pain to go away, when another set of sneakers invaded her vision.
“Good match,” Lutrova said, extending her hand. She’d come all the way over from her side of the court. If Penny didn’t know better and the pain wasn’t totally clouding her judgment, she’d have thought it was a sign of respect.
Nodding, Penny took her hand and shook it firmly. “Good match.”
A moment later, the trainer walked out to her, clucking his tongue in disapproval as he helped her off the court, forcing her to skip the on-the-court interview. He muttered something about stubborn girls who don’t know what’s good for them, but Penny ignored him in favor of listening to the crowd cheer before they made it into the tunnel.
“Penny,” a voice echoed against the concrete of the hallway, followed by the pounding of feet against the ground. “I’ve got it from here, mate.”
The trainer glanced at her, confirming it was all right to leave her with him. She nodded and stood on one leg as he switched places with Alex. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she hooked hers over his shoulders, but before he could lead her down the hallway, she pressed herself into him and rested her head against his chest. He held her tightly, pressing a kiss into her hair, and then she pulled back, nodding to a changing room a few feet away. Once inside, he led her to a table and helped her onto it. She lifted her leg up onto the padded tabletop to keep her ankle elevated.
The trainertskedat her, but she ignored him. “Could you give us a minute?”
He left the room, but Alex stayed a few steps away. Hewas still in his match clothes, the black-on-black look he’d started wearing during theAthlete Weeklyphoto shoot. Tennis’s very own rebel. He ran a hand through his hair.
“Did you win?” Penny asked.
“Yeah, I did,” he said, but then shook his head. “What were you thinking?” She snorted, uninterested in his disapproval. “It was bloody incredible. I was in a press conference when I heard what happened. I ran over here as fast as I could, knocked over a few reporters come to think of it.” He took her hands in his and squeezed gently. “Are you okay?”
She was in too much pain to lie. “My ankle hurts,” she admitted in a wild understatement.
Alex’s hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs stroking against her skin softly over the line of her jaw, down to her throat. His index finger hooked into the gold chain at her neck and he tugged. “You wore it.” His voice held disbelief and awe.
“For luck,” Penny said, swallowing roughly, trying to find the voice to say the words she wanted to say. “But really, I neededyou. I didn’t realize how much until I was out there all alone and it felt like my ankle was going to fall off and I just needed you.”
“Yeah?” He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.
“Yeah.”
His free hand brushed back a strand of hair that fell loose from her braid. “I fired Caroline. I know you said it didn’t matter, but she published that last picture without my permission, and I swear to you, love, I never want to hurt youagain.” He bent his head to hers, pressing a soft kiss against her lips. “I am so bloody sorry.”
“I know,” she said, pulling away just enough to get the words out. “I… I can’t go through that again, Alex. I need you to promise me we’re in this together, you and me, or not at all. Please.”
“I swear it. I promise. I—”
His words were cut off as Dom, Jack, Indy, and Jasmine all poured in through the doorway, words of censure and congratulations spilling over one another. She smiled at them but felt Alex lean away, putting some space between them. Her attention snapped back to him and she took his hand.
“Don’t leave,” she said, tightening her grip.
He raised her hand to his lips. “I won’t.”
They still had so much unsaid between them, so many things to talk about and work through, but for now, she just neededhim.
Maybe forever and suddenly, that wasn’t scary at all.
HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN SLEEPING. HE NEEDED REST IF HEwanted to be at the top of his game. The biggest match of his life was tomorrow. Alex raised his head from the pillows and glanced at his phone.
Correction,today.
