Page 63 of Hard to Hold

And there he goes again. “You’re my agent. Aren’t you supposed to be telling me you’re fighting as hard as you can to get me where I need to be because you know the truth?”

“I am fighting.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” I look back to him. “You told me this would blow over.”

So did Archibald, Rush. And despite his blasé attitude when he asked me to take the hit, Archibald still calls or texts every few days to make sure I stay the course. To remind me how he’s seen me as another son, from taking me in, educating me, feeding me, taking me on family holidays . . .

But he’s a father figure who lets another son stuff his own future and then calls in a marker . . .

He messages me to tell me the story has fallen back in the pages and is slowly dying.

Good.

Fucking great.

But that doesn’t mean it’s been forgotten by my club and team. Or by Seth.

That’s the part I underestimated when I agreed to this narrative.

That’s the one thing I can’t change.

A chance encounter. My stolen meal lost under the boots of some interfering policeman. The man who sent his son with the policeman to learn about real life and responsibilities . . . but then sent that same son an easy get-out-of-jail-free card eleven years later. Quid. Pro. Fucking. Quo. All so Archibald Matheson can ascend to his own throne. Easily done, because it costs him nothing.

Was it worth it?

That’s what brought me to this moment. To this quid pro quo.

Was it worth it? I stare at Finn and repeat Lennox’s question in my head.

I have much to prove that it is—wealth, a place in sporting history, the chance to play a game that I love, and make more money than I ever dreamed I could. I’ll never have to worry about being hungry or cold or unclean again. I didn’t go to jail that day, I didn’t miss the scholarship, and I didn’t spend the rest of my teen years growing up alone because of them. The Mathesons became a family where a seat at the dinner table was always set for me.

Then there’s Archibald. A man I possibly hero-worshipped, until I saw how his career came before his family. How rising through the ranks—and his need to feel important at all costs, including supporting my career—was accomplished mostly to the detriment of his flesh-and-blood son, who still hasn’t grown the fuck up.

Rory. My brother. Often someone I consider my best friend.

And Helen. She made space for me in her heart, not replacing my mum of course, but certainly filling the large hole Mum left since she died.

She’s spent so much time trying to right Archibald’s wrongs and shortcomings. She’s fought so hard for Rory’s success—not professionally, but emotionally—as she has mine.

How could I let her down now?

Despite their weaknesses, they’ve never turned their back on me when almost everyone else had. Sure, I know Archibald did it to attach his name to the closest thing he could find to a rising star . . . but she did it out of love. She did it because she cared. And part of that has helped me be the man I am today.

So that’s why I can do this.

He first saw me.

That’s what brought me here.

She first loved me.

That’s why I can hold out on this.

He became my brother. One I won’t abandon.

But then my debt will be paid in full. End of story.

“How about you get a royal pregnant? Then everyone would be so excited that you’d be forgiven.” He chuckles.