Page 94 of Hard to Hold

I laugh and nod. “Tour-de-America?”

“Yes. We did Disneyland last weekend. The food truck place before that. It feels like you’re checking items off a Tour-de-America list for us to complete.”

“I thought it was part of my contract to make you happy,” I say sweetly and bat my eyelashes innocently.

“I know exactly what would make me happy,” he says and gives a slight tug on the tie of my bikini top, “but I think we’d get arrested for it.”

I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. “Pretty please.”

“Lennox Kincade,” he all but growls, and right before he tugs me down to partially act on the threat, something over my shoulder catches his eye. “Hello there, mate.”

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your personal time,” a woman with strawberry-blonde-colored hair says, as she races up to her son who is standing staring at Rush as if he’s just seen a ghost. “Billy just adores you and—”

“Totally fine,” Rush says before turning to address the adorable little boy with curly hair and vibrant blue eyes. “Billy, is it?”

“Yes,” he stutters.

“Please tell me you’re a Liverpool fan because between you and me, there are not enough of them here in the States.”

“I am.”

“Whew.” Rush holds his hand out and shakes Billy’s. “Rush McKenzie, nice to meet you.”

They chat for a few minutes, and I watch the interaction, marveling at how very good Rush is at doing this—talking to fans, and kids especially. There’s an ease about him that can’t be taught. I’ve seen many athletes stumble or slip and crush a kid’s idyllic view of what their sports hero is like.

Not Rush.

Tour-de-America.

Rush’s term comes back at me as I watch the two interact and I wonder, is that what I’m doing? Am I trying to check one item off his list of American must-haves so that when he goes home he’ll never forget me? Am I trying to forge memories with someone because I know we have a finite amount of time, and I need them for myself to hold on to when my heart is broken?

“Are you staying, Rush?” Billy asks, glancing over to his mom and then back to Rush again. “Are you going to play for the MLS so we can see you all the time?”

“That’s a hard one, mate. I’d love to see you all the time too, but I do have a contract to fulfill with Liverpool. It’s important to stay true to the word you give.”

Billy’s face falls and it’s heartbreaking. “I understand.”

“But we are having an exhibition game next week if you want to come out and see me play in person,” Rush says. Billy’s eyes widen.

And just like that, Rush is the hero again as he gives Billy’s mom instructions before they say their goodbyes on how to make sure Billy sees him prior to the game.

“What?” Rush asks when he turns to find me studying him as they walk away.

“Nothing.”

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” he asks.

“You mean in admiration because of how incredible you are to each and every fan who comes up to you? It is your personal time, you didn’t have to—”

“Do you know how many players would kill to be in my shoes? To put on a kit and boots every day and play for a team you love in a game that gave you life? Why wouldn’t I be nice?”

And that’s the moment I feel Rush take ownership of a piece of my heart . . . forever.

“Don’t let the tattoos and rep fool you, folks, because Rush McKenzie is a softie at heart.”

He gives me a wink and presses his lips to mine. “Shh, don’t tell anyone.”

When he sits back on his elbows and holds his face up to the sun, I ask the question he answered to Billy. “So you’ve made up your mind? You’re going back home?”