Page 88 of Hard to Love

I’ll leave it at that.

But that doesn’t make it any easier when I stand in my kitchen later that night and look at the door waiting for her to come in and ask how my day was.

STEVIE

DID HE WATCH TODAY? DID he see me advance to the quarterfinals?

Did he see me hand over my heart when I patted it three times before the match started?

Does he know how much I’d kill to look up and see him sitting in the stands?

Or waiting in the locker room afterward where he’d be pacing while on his phone, talking too loud, sucking up all the air, and dominating the space?

I look at my phone, scrolling past texts from Carson and Vivi and Jordan, and hate that the one person I most want one from isn’t there.

For all I know, he could be on a plane somewhere right now. Or anywhere really. Just not here.

With a deep breath, I prepare myself for my post-game interviews.

But not before one more look down at my phone.

Nothing.

Does he know how much I miss him?

FINN

“HASN’T THIS GONE ON LONG enough?”

I smile when I hear Chase Kincade’s voice coming through my phone. “Hasn’t what gone on long enough? You hating me?” I ask playfully, knowing we’re way past that.

“I don’t hate you and you know that.”

“But you did.”

“You’re damn right I did, and I had valid reasons to after what you did to me—”

“True.”

“But that’s over and done with. I’ve moved on.”

“How is Gunner, by the way?” I ask of her new husband who, by all accounts, seems like a nice guy and makes her ridiculously happy.

“Wonderful.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “You’re distracting me, Sanderson.”

“Yes. I forgot. What’s gone on long enough?”

“This whole stealing clients back and forth bullshit.”

“You’re upset about Dante,” I say, proud that I was able to pull him on board with my firm.

“I’m upset about a lot of people.”

“As am I,” I counter. “I think we’re pretty even in the stealing clients department.” It’s been an exhausting few years trying to hold on to what is mine while staunching off an all-out attack from her firm to try and steal my clients away.

I may have deserved it. That much I can admit.

“Then I say we call a truce.”