Page 57 of Hard to Hold

“I’m good with it, if you are, mate,” Rory says with a nod.

“Sure, yeah. I don’t know what to say other than thank you . . . but I still can’t keep the boots.”

And by God, when Rory and I left there two hours later, I had the box with the boots in them stuffed under my arm and my head a whirlwind of thoughts.

“Come with me?” Rory asks when the sidewalk splits and I take a step toward the dormitories.

“Where?” I ask.

“To have a smoke.”

“You know I don’t smoke.”

“Not that kind of smoke, Rush. The other kind that makes everything speed up and feel good.” He shifts on his feet, shoves his hands in his pockets, and lifts his brows as I stare at him in shock. He’s a policeman’s son. I don’t know why I figured a policeman’s son would never do that. “Go drop your boots off. I’ll wait here for you.”

“Nah. No thanks.” I finally break free from the shock to respond. “I have shit to do.”

“C’mon, don’t be a sod, Rush. If we’re going to be brothers, mate,” he says with a wink, “it’s time you know all my secrets.” His laugh floats through the night.

“No judgment here,” I say.

“Sometimes I just need a release to deal with ’em. Being perfect can be daunting.” He cuffs me on the shoulder. “Good thing you can be that for both of us now.” Another laugh as he takes a few steps backward. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” I force a smile and watch Rory jog the opposite way, wondering how the fuck he can give one hundred percent on the field tomorrow after getting high tonight.

How he could disrespect his parents by doing that shit after everything they’ve done for him?

Everything I would give anything to have.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

LENNOX

“MS. KINCADE?” I TURN TO look over my shoulder to where Cannon’s assistant is standing with her hands clasped in front of her and a soft smile on her face.

“Oh, hi, Maggie. I didn’t see you there. What is it?”

“Mr. Garner is looking for you. He says the presentation will start soon and he wanted to make sure you were by his side.”

“Oh, yes. Sure.” I look back to the general managers of two MLS teams I was just speaking with. “If you’ll excuse me. I definitely want to finish this conversation after dinner.”

“Perfect. I’m more than interested to hear your thoughts on the state of the league,” one of them says.

“He’ll meet you backstage momentarily,” Maggie says as she points to a small hallway that leads toward the back of the small conference area.

“Great. I’ll run to the ladies’ room and then meet him there.”

Tonight’s function is Cannon’s attempt to wine and dine potential advertisers and sponsors by having them all in one place with the coaches and management of each team in the league. Of course, Rush is the big draw—as well as the ever-constant murmuring over whether he’s here to play for good—and he will be unveiling the league’s new marketing plan for the coming season.

Lucky for me, I haven’t had much contact with Rush though, because that man is absolutely stunning in a black tuxedo. Like stop-and-stare, pick-your-jaw-up-off-the-floor stunning.

I make my way toward the back of the ballroom of sorts and startle when I look up to see Finn standing there.

“Look at you all dressed up and with nowhere to go,” he says with that condescending grin on his lips.

“Go to hell, Sanderson.” It takes everything I have not to barrel through him—because he’s the last person I want to see right now—but I know I need to play this cool. His unexpected appearance tells me he’s worried about me stealing Rush.

Good. He should be.