Page 127 of Hard to Hold

A slow, bittersweet smile slides onto his face. He blinks back tears I pretend not to see. “That’s all the answer I need.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

RUSH

THE PUB IS SLOW FOR a Thursday night, but it’s exactly what I need to quiet my head and take a step back.

We’re three games into the season and the pressure has obviously gotten to me, because I’m not playing up to par like I should be.

I feel off.

Something’s fucking off.

And I have half a mind to send Lennox a one-way, first-class ticket to Heathrow so I can lay it all out on the bloody line to her. So I can tell her I fucking love her and I don’t care how it works, but that it has to work.

I even considered calling one of her sisters at their office to see if she’s as miserable as I am, but nothing reeks of desperation more than calling the family to help you with your game. It’s utter tosh.

These feelings aren’t one-sided. At least they weren’t when we parted ways last month or whenever it fucking was. And if mine haven’t gone away, then sure as shit hers haven’t either.

“Here, mate,” the bartender says as he slides a glass of ice across the bar top to me.

“That’s not mine,” I say but then immediately sit taller.

Nah. It’s not possible.

“Yes. It is. A gift—if you want to call it that—from the lady in the corner over there.”

My head whips up in the direction he points, and I’m already on my feet before I see her.

Because it’s her.

It has to be her.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

LENNOX

MY HEART STOPS AT THE sight of him, and I know every moment of heartache and worry was so worth it when his eyes lock on mine.

When the love and uncertainty and longing that is in my gaze reflects in his.

He’s at my table in a second, his arms going around me and pulling me in, and his lips finding mine as if I were the only home they’ve ever had.

He chuckles against my lips. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

My hands run up his sides, over his cheeks, and into his hair as if they need to make sure he’s really here and I’m really touching him. But it’s his smile when he leans away to look at me as I do him that tells me the true story.

He wants me here.

I am wanted.

“What are you doing here?” he asks with an incredulous expression on his face, as if he’s afraid if he looks away that I’m going to disappear.

“A wise person once told me that I needed to find the roar of the crowd and chase my own happiness. So that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“And what exactly would that entail?” he asks, toying with a lock of my hair.

“I’m thinking of opening a KSM branch here in the UK. It’ll allow me to be on my own, and yet still be part of a team.”