Page 19 of Hard to Hold

“Talk about adding insult to injury though. Rumor was that Rush would slide into the captain’s role next season. Steal Seth’s wife and his status on the team.” Johnny glances Rush’s way and blows out a telling whistle. “I hear it’s a clusterfuck over there. The guys are fighting over who’s taking what sides and management’s in constant talks on how to smooth this over, when it’s really not their job to manage their players’ personal lives in the first place.”

“Sounds like chaos,” I murmur but recall overhearing comments here and there about Seth. Rumor is he’s not the nicest of guys. “Rush is here to lie low until shit cools off?”

“Or another scandal overshadows his.”

“Hmm,” I murmur, realizing my gaze has gravitated back to Rush again.

“After all that, you’re still going to sit here and stare at him?”

“You’re just jealous that I’m not staring at you.” I toss my coaster at him. “And eww. That would be gross if I did since you’re the brother I never had.”

“True.” He chuckles but levels a look at me. “Doesn’t any of what I just said, what Rush has done, give you pause in making those googly eyes at him?”

“I’m not making googly eyes at him.” It’s called smoldering. I smolder when I look at him because even across the distance, his pull is undeniable. “Did he do it?” I ask.

“What do you mean, did he do it?” Johnny looks at me like I’m crazy for asking, but in my quick search on my phone earlier before he came home, I didn’t see a single article or post where Rush said anything other than, “no comment.”

Why did I search for it? Why did I want there to be something that could redeem his actions? Why do I care?

Because, I don’t think Rush McKenzie is that man. The man who doesn’t give a flying fuck about the enormous ripple effect caused by cheating with a teammate’s other half. I’ve known a lot of shitty people in my life, have seen infidelity after infidelity with other athletes I’ve represented. And even though Rush is cocky and arrogant, I don’t sense the same . . . sleaziness I’ve seen many times before.

And honestly? I’d be surprised if Johnny would allow him such easy access to his place if he thought it was true as well. That’s one of the reasons we’re such great friends.

“Well, has anyone asked him if he did it?” I ask. “I mean . . . sure he has that cocky swagger and crooked smile that could charm the panties off any woman—even pop stars apparently, but—”

“Sorry, that isn’t something I take notice of,” he says and rolls his eyes.

“And that’s why you’re jealous, because you can’t buy it with any of that money you have laying in stacks around here,” I tease.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” His smile widens.

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

“You’re right, though a little dose of you goes a long way.” He winks. “Question is, why do I let you visit when clearly your intentions are to abuse me relentlessly?”

“Because you love me.” I give my oldest friend the biggest, cheesiest grin I can muster.

“You’re right. I do. It’s an illness.” He pours more merlot into his empty glass. “To answer your question, I’ve asked, but he won’t talk about it. When I bring up anything about it, he stays tight-lipped. The club put a gag order in effect to keep club business in house.”

“Smart on the club, but I think it’s a little too late for that considering there’s a photo of the two of them on every tabloid out there.” I laugh.

“I guess it was issued after the team got into somewhat of a brawl over it.” He shrugs. “I’m going to respect his wishes and leave him the fuck alone about it since everyone else in the world won’t.”

I purse my lips and know what it feels like to be accused of something out of misperception. “I still think someone needs to just come out and ask him.”

“How about that not be you, huh? I need to keep the peace between my housemates for the time being.” He lifts a glass my way. “Speaking of coming out and asking things, you want to tell me why you’re here? We’ve known each other long enough to know you only show up out of the blue when you’re running from something.”

Shit. That’s the problem when you run to the one person who knows you better than most.

Our gazes hold across the firepit, and then I tell him everything about my last twenty-four hours—the conference, Finn, my conversation with Chase then Dekker. All of it.

“You know your family loves you like mad, right?” he finally says after a long silence and a quiet, thoughtful stare.

“They can love me all they want, but that doesn’t make any of this better. What they think of me or what others think of me, for that matter.”

“There’s more to the story, isn’t there?” he prods.

I swear under my breath as a ghost of a smile tints my lips. How is it that he knows? How is it that he’s going to make me admit to the one thing I don’t even want to admit to myself?