Game, set, match.
I rose to my feet with the rest of the stadium. But I was only looking at him. Then I saw it.The look.The one the cameras were already zooming in on, waiting for the explosion.
His jaw was tight. His eyes were like a storm.Don’t do it, Tyler. Don’t let them be right about you.
He looked toward the box, his gaze searching for mine through the chaos of the crowd.
I gripped the edge of my plastic seat so hard the ridges bit into my palms.No, no, no. Please, Tyler. You’ve done so bloody well. Just hold it.
His eyes locked on mine for a second before he exhaled sharply. Dropped his shoulders. Then jogged to the net.
My breath whooshed out in relief.
He pulled Jordan in for a handshake and a hug, the crowd erupting. Then, in a move that nearly broke me, Tyler lifted Jordan’s arm for the crowd as if to say,this guy deserves it.Jordan patted him on the back and gestured for the applause to keep going. For both of them.
My phone buzzed again.
Kate:
I think I’m going to cry.
Me:
Already there, mate.
And I was. My throat was tight, eyes stinging, heart so full I thought it might burst. Today there’d been no tantrums, no anger. Just pride, grace, and grit.
The crowd roared his name, but he didn’t look for the cameras. He looked for me. And in that heartbeat, I knew it wasn’t just his reputation changing, it was his story and maybe his entire life.
Chapter 45
Tyler
I’d come herehungry for the title and walked away without it. But standing there, sweat dripping down my face, the crowd still roaring, I felt something I wasn’t used to—pride. Not just in the match, but in the way I’d held it together. The moment I saw Orla, the loss didn’t feel like losing at all.
She was already waiting for me in the tunnel like always, not just as my physio, but as the one who’d made this day possible. The second I reached her, I scooped her up, spun her, and kissed her. I didn’t give a damn who saw it. She let out a thrilled little giggle that I’d started chasing without even meaning to.
“I’m so proud of you,” she said, her eyes glassy with tears. My throat went tight. I’d never had this. Never had anyone in the stands rooting for me like she did. But there it was, real pride, admiration, fucking love, written all over her face. I was in love with this girl more than I could ever explain.
When I lost that last return I felt that familiar heat bubble up. It was that same nauseating flash. The one that used to blind me every time things didn't go my way. It clawed at the back of my throat, demanding I let it out.
But then I remembered her face in that moment. It was the same look she’d given me the night I broke down that damn door and I couldn’t do it to her. Not again.Neveragain. So I took a breath. Held it. Let it go. And damn, it felt good.
Was I disappointed? Hell yeah. I’d worked my ass off for this. But I lost tohimand I couldn’t be mad at that. He was a machine, a good guy, and a lethal player. He was everything I aimed to be. If sharing a final with him meant I was anywhere near his league, I was doing something right.
A familiar hand landed on my back.
“Come on, mate. Let’s go be big boys for the press,” Jordan laughed as he strode past me.
I gave him a quick smile and nod before dipping my head back to Orla’s ear.
“You better get back to that hotel room and be waiting for me wearing nothing but a smile,” I murmured in her ear, catching the rise of pink in her cheeks as I pulled back.
I followed Jordan down the tunnel toward the press room. “You almost fucking killed me out there, Reed,” he huffed.
“Well, thatwasthe plan,” I shot back, grinning.
We stepped inside, and the noise of the crowd was replaced with the sound of journalists shuffling papers and setting up cameras. Jordan took the mic first, answering the expected questions with that easy Aussie charm that made the whole room lean in to listen. Then, mid-answer, he glanced my way and smirked.
