Page 54 of Hard to Hold

It hasn’t.

Not with him standing here with the sunlight on his face and those eyes owning every emotion of mine—confusion, desire, defiance, want.

“This is the part where you tell me what it is you want, Lennox. This is where you explain to me why your words are saying one thing but your eyes are saying something completely different when it comes to us.”

“You need to get ready for your game.”

“Only if you stay and watch.”

I laugh. “I’m sure Cannon would be really thrilled if you cut out on this extensive production because of me.”

“I don’t give a toss about Cannon, Lennox.” And the way he makes the comment tells me he’s not joking. “So you’ll stay because you’re dutiful and sensible, and definitely wouldn’t want to rock the boat. I’ll stay because I’m going to get a hat trick and dazzle you with some fancy footwork. Once you’re impressed, we’ll talk about the rest.”

“I think you suffer from a serious lack of self-confidence,” I say drolly despite being utterly charmed by this man.

“I’m going to win you over yet, Nox,” he says as he takes a step back. “Like me, football is an acquired taste. Once you have it, you can’t resist sneaking a little in every chance you get.”

“Definitely lacking self-esteem.” I can’t help but smile.

“Make sure you’re sitting front and center. I wouldn’t want you to miss a thing.”

And without another word, he jogs toward the underbelly of the stadium with two of Cannon’s “lackeys” following to make sure his every whim is taken care of.

I watch until he fades from sight and the only thing I can do is laugh. Arrogant ass.

This is the part where I should be telling myself that over my dead body am I staying, because I don’t want to give Rush the satisfaction of being right.

But if I’m dead, then I wouldn’t be able to experience all that there is to Rush, and no matter how many times I tell myself I’m holding out . . . he seems to have found a weakness of mine.

Him.

The question is, what am I going to do about it?

The answer? Stay and watch.

Of course, I do. I watch each pass of the ball, each set made, every shot taken, and secretly marvel at Rush’s natural talent.

The entire time though, his comment keeps running through my head, almost as if to help justify my weakening resolve.

It’s no one’s fucking business who you sleep with.

And he’s right. It’s not. But I also know public perception and the professional bias that comes from it. That thought leads to Rush and what he’s going through back home with Liverpool. After some digging, there are quite a few rumors about his team captain. None of them paint him in the most flattering light.

So if Rush was having a fling with Esme, maybe it was because those rumors about Seth and his controlling—and possibly abusive ways—are true.

If that’s the case though, why does Rush stay quiet? Why does it feel like Rush is taking this hit as if it’s a duty rather than because he’s guilty? And if he’s with her, why is he pursuing me?

“Gooooooooaaaaaaaaaallllllllll!” the announcer screams a millisecond before the entire stadium roars. I jump up in unison with them, my hands in the air, my voice going hoarse. “Number thirteen, Rush McKenzie, just made an incredible shot, ladies and gentlemen. That’s his second of the night.”

Rush high-fives the rest of his teammates in this pseudo-All-Star game with the best players from around the league competing against each other, before turning to me and pointing with a huge grin just like he did after the first goal.

The next thing he does is run over to where Scottie and his mom are sitting on the bench, high-fiving him before all the guys proceed to ruffle the hair on the top of Scottie’s head.

My smile feels permanent. I truly am enjoying myself.

It’s not like I ever doubted he could do it. There’s a reason he’s often talked about in the same circles as Messi, Maradona, Ronaldo, and even Beckenbauer.

I thought I hated this sport—the long breakaways, the low scores, the endless back and forth. After becoming fully immersed in this game, I’m beginning to think I disliked it because I didn’t have anyone to root for.