Page 116 of Hard to Hold

Lennox walks over and looks me in the eye with a clarity and determination I’ve never seen before. “You told me once that no one has ever fought for you. Let me fight for you, Rush. Let me believe in you and fight with you.”

Her words hit me deep down, somewhere in a place I thought had long ago died. I struggle to find words.

“A starving fifteen-year-old kid doesn’t owe anybody, Rush. Especially not at the expense of his integrity nor his career.”

“But I am where I am because of that day.”

“You’re where you are because of you, Rush McKenzie. Your determination. Your grit. Your talent. Your goodness. You are where you are and who you are because of you and no one else.” Tears well in her eyes as her voice escalates in urgency. “I beg you. Let. Me. Fight. For. You. You are worth fighting for.”

She stares at me in a way that owns every part of me and in a way I never expected to feel for someone.

My sigh is as heavy as my heart. I want to tell her thank you. I want to tell her that she’s the best thing that’s ever come into my life bar football. I want to tell her that I love how she’s fighting for me. With me. But my throat is hoarse. My soul is crushed. “Do what you have to do.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

LENNOX

“DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO do.”

I spring into action at Rush’s words. “You need to pack. I’ll deal with the rest.”

And then it hits me. Where’s the time stamp on the photo taken of Esme? If she was here three weeks ago, the bruises would have faded if Rush hit her. So if the picture was taken this week, there’s no way it could be Rush.

Later, Lenn. Get him on that plane and then dig in and find ways to refute this.

The next fifteen minutes are a whirlwind of him packing and me trying to figure out just what else I can do to fix this. I’m well aware that I should patch Finn in on this, that my hatred for him could be set aside for the good of Rush, but fuck Finn. Fuck him and his lack of confidence in Rush. He was talking loud enough on the other end of the call for me to hear.

This is not a wait-and-see operation.

This is a grab the bull by the horns and throw something red in front of him moment.

And right now, I’m so livid I’ll lead that charge. Hell, I’m furious with Finn, angry at Rory, and infuriated by Esme’s silence. Isn’t she just as complicit in this as Rory is?

I get why she hasn’t spoken up before this, but now? Now she’s going to let Rush take the heat for this?

She could have said something when she was away from Haskins in LA. She could have had a restraining order placed on her husband—who beats her—while she was safely hidden in a country, five thousand miles from home. But no, she stayed silent, allowing an innocent man to be thrown into the fire. An affair is one thing, but abuse? That attack on his character? On his very soul?

That’s deplorable.

Fury, rage, and anger course through me—and that’s an understatement.

“I’m going to need . . .” My words fade when I walk into Rush’s room with instructions and find him sitting on the edge of his bed looking utterly fucking wiped out. “Hey? You okay?”

High on my own adrenaline to fix and solve, I cross the room to him. When I’m within arm’s reach he just pulls me toward him, my thighs straddling his, and then he wraps his arms around me and holds on.

At first, I’m at a loss of what to do. Rush is always such a strong, vibrant presence so to see him so . . . vulnerable, it knocks me back.

I thread my fingers through his hair until he tilts his head up so his eyes can look at mine. There’s a whole host of emotions swimming in his and every undecipherable one makes my heart race.

“I need you, Nox. Right now. I just need you.”

I lower myself to sit on his thighs as my lips find his in a slow, bittersweet kiss. “You have me,” I whisper. Completely.

We move in silence. My action, his reaction. My exhale, his next inhale. Two strangers who’ve found each other. Two broken halves who’ve somehow made a whole.

My shirt over my head and his hands on my breasts. Our clothes shoved to the floor before he lays me down. Our lips meet again and again almost as if they’re making up for what will be no more.

Because this is our goodbye.