Page 41 of Hard to Hold

“My debt is paid.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RUSH

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT BLOODY time it is here, mate?” Louie asks. “It’s six in the fucking morning.”

I laugh, his voice is just what I need to hear right now. Anything to keep me from heading back to the house and finishing what I started with Lennox earlier tonight.

Anything.

Anything . . . except another woman.

“Six? God forbid you actually see the sun rise every once in a while.” I laugh.

“Moons are good. It means the party is still going strong. Sunrises, not so much. That means hangovers, training, and having to roll off whatever warm body I’ve found as a cushion for the night.”

And as if on cue, a woman murmurs his name as a protest in the background. Predictable fucking Louie.

“Do you have a sec?”

My goalie and closest friend’s laugh is deep and rich and tugs a smile onto my lips. “Unlucky for her, that’s all I had in me last night,” he teases.

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. Of course. What do you need?”

“I’m here. You’re there. Have you heard anything?”

“I’ve heard a lot of things. Question is, are any of them fucking true?”

My sigh is heavy. “Depends who they’re from.”

“Are the arsehole reporters still camping out at your gate? Probably. Is the story still selling tabloids? Of course, it is. We do love a juicy scandal here. Is Seth still a surly son of bitch who doesn’t deserve Esme? Damn straight.”

His sigh is heavy. He’s seen the bullshit side of Seth before and he knows the real me. He hasn’t asked for a single explanation, but threw a punch to help defend me when Seth came at me in the changing room. Thank fuck for Louie, the only mate who didn’t need to ask if it was true.

“What about the club?”

“Still saying ‘no comment.’ Still giving the bullshit line that they’re ‘working on building the best team possible for next year.’ As for your fate? Who the fuck knows? They have to weigh the benefits of keeping their proven captain or keeping you, the face of this new version of the team they’ve rebuilt. It’s a shit decision.”

“It is.”

“Say something, mate. Anything. Do an interview with Piers Morgan. Get your voice out there. Your silence is killing you and we can’t have that. You’re too damn talented to be burying your career just yet.”

“The gagging order—”

“Fuck the gagging order,” he says. “It’s like you have something holding you back when you should be fighting tooth and nail to keep your spot.”

“Louie,” the woman’s voice comes through the line.

“I love you, mate, but—”

“But you’ve got to go give her your few seconds. I get it.”

“Fuck you.” He laughs.

“Later, mate.”