Page 77 of Hard to Hold

“And how did you manage to skip out of today’s promotional extravaganza?” he asks with a flair of his hands and a roll of his eyes.

“You’re really not enjoying this whole thing, are you?”

He twists his lips for a beat before meeting my eyes. “I’m a football player. Being on the pitch is what I love, not talking about it.”

“Over the years I’ve learned that love of the game means different things to different athletes. What is it about socc—football that you love?” I ask as I turn and face him completely. That soft smile that ghosts his lips tells me everything I need to know. He’s not in it for money or fame.

It’s his one true love.

“It’s hard to put into words and when I do, I sound like an idiot.”

“Try me.”

And for the first time since I’ve known Rush McKenzie, he blushes. It’s adorable and sexy all in one confusing breath. Something I need to attempt to forget.

“It’s stupid really, but it’s what saved me.” He twirls the set of keys in his hand and focuses on them. “Times were tough when I was young and footie was the one thing I was good at. It was the only thing that made kids look at me admirably instead of with pity, or like I was the weird one.”

“Kids can be cruel. I wore glasses and had four years’ worth of braces, so I understand feeling like the weird one.”

“You? Ugly?” He laughs as he takes a seat opposite me and then pulls my chair so my knees slide between his spread ones. His hands are on my thighs. There’s something so very natural about the moment that I swear my stomach flips when he looks up from my legs to meet my eyes. “I love the game because it is who I am. I can transition to this figurehead that Cannon wants me to be later in my career, but not now. Not when the game is like a drug to me, sparking me to life, begging me to be better at everything I touch. A better footballer, a better teammate, a better idol for kids, a better everything.”

I stare at Rush and know with absolute certainty that this is not a man who would cheat with his captain’s wife. This is not a man who would throw away his career on a stupid move. This is not a man who should have been vilified so instantly without a defense. Surely his teammates, those he’s close to, can’t believe this lie either.

“There are moments on the field when the crowd is chanting, the air is thick with anticipation, and my blood is coursing with adrenaline that I just know I’m going to do something incredible. It’s almost as if the moment elevates my game.”

“The moment and all the hard work you put in,” I say. My research over the past few days has shown me that Rush is known for his endless dedication. He’s typically the first one on the pitch and the last one to leave. Impressive for a man who most would assume doesn’t care about a thing in the world other than himself.

“Perhaps. Then again, maybe I’m just one lucky bastard who has gotten a few breaks now and again.”

“You don’t need to play it down around me. I live in a world where I want athletes who are good to know it. That way they know their worth and will never sell themselves short.”

“And what about those who are awesome players but arsehole people?”

“I’ve come across those a time or two.”

“Do you represent them or do you out them for who they are?” His eyes turn serious, and for the first time, I’m not certain if we’re still speaking about him.

“It’s not my place to out them, but if they’re assholes, then their colors are true enough that the world will see in time.”

He falls quiet, his eyes dropping to stare at his thumbs moving back and forth on my knees. “They do always end up outing themselves over time, don’t they?”

When his eyes lift to meet mine, there’s a gravity in them that unexpectedly adds heaviness to the moment. “Rush?”

His smile is there, but more forced than sincere. “You never answered my question,” he says. “How were you able to get out of that boring shitshow today?”

“I had meetings.”

“With your sister?”

I shake my head. “That was just the last few minutes of my day.” I blow out a sigh. “I’ve been avoiding her.”

“Why?”

“Long story.”

“Do I have anything to do with that long story?” He angles his head to the side and waits for a response.

“Of course you do. We always talk about the athletes we’re recruiting or are on our radar to want to recruit.” It’s not the whole truth, but at least I’m not lying completely.