“It was.” I catch her hand, stilling her movements. “I've had a lot of women in my life, but I've never loved any of them. Never committed to anyone. Brett knows that, and he thinks that’s what this is, but it’s not. I promise.”
“Are you capable of love?”
“I am.” I turn her hand over, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I just never found the right person before. Someone worth changing for, worth building a life with.”
“And now?”
“Now I have.” I look into her eyes, willing her to see the truth there. “I'm ready to commit, Harper. To you. To us.”
She's about to respond when a thought hits me like a freight train. “Wait. How did Brett find out?” Cold dread settles in my stomach. This might be worse than we think. I stand up abruptly, ignoring the throbbing in my head. “I need to check my phone.”
“What's wrong?”
“Last night at the auction.” I stride toward my bedroom, Harper close behind.
I hope to God my suspicions are wrong. I grab my phone from the nightstand and power it on. Immediately, it starts buzzing with notifications. Missed calls, text messages, social media alerts.
I open a web browser and type my name. The first thing I see makes my blood run cold.
A photo of Harper and me emerging from the alcove, my hand clearly on her hip, our faces close together. The intimacy of the moment is clear in the way we're looking at each other, leaving no doubt about our relationship.
“Damn photographer,” I mutter, remembering the man who seemed to be focused on the floral arrangements.
“What is it?” Harper asks, coming to stand beside me.
I show her the screen, watching as all the color drains from her face.
“Oh God,” she whispers.
“It's going to be fine,” I say quickly, pulling her against my side. “We'll figure this out.”
She resists my hug and takes the phone from me. She reads the article, her face growing whiter by the second. “Oh God, management. They’re going to see this. Isn't there a rule against fraternizing between employees and players?”
“You're not directly employed by the Renegades. You're an independent contractor. That doesn't apply to you,” I point out firmly, then take my phone from her.
There are a ton of messages from my teammates, reporters, and random people. Most of it is noise, but one message from Nova catches my eye.I knew you were banging her. I would too. She's gorgeous.
I delete it immediately, not wanting Harper to see it.
“This is exactly what I was afraid of,” Harper says, sinking onto the edge of my bed. “Now everyone is going to think I slept with you to get this job.”
“No, they won't. And even if they do, who cares? We know the truth.”
But she's spiraling, and I know that no amount of reassurance from me is going to fix this. Not right now.
The photo is out there. Brett knows, and so does everyone else.
Our secret is blown, but my worry right now is Harper and whether she’ll weather this storm or she’ll run scared.
And that is frightening as fuck. I can’t lose her. Not when I’ve just found her.
21
Harper
I'm dressed and ready for work, but I can't stop staring at my phone. Cole and I spent all of yesterday going over different scenarios, planning how to handle the media attention. He made me put my phone away for most of the day, but now that morning is here, I can't tear my eyes from the screen.
The photos are everywhere. Instagram, Twitter, entertainment blogs, and even legitimate news outlets. They've connected the dots about Brett being my brother, and the articles are already hinting at nepotism.
