Page 129 of Lucky Shot

“Hey, sometimes it takes a good woman to make you an even better man,” Rush says, and Lennox makes an awe sound in the background. “Look at what it did for me.”

I roll my eyes but smile. “Someone’s getting laid tonight,” I tease.

“One can hope,” Rush says. “I’m late for a meeting. I should be at the game this weekend. At least that’s the plan. Cheers.”

“Later,” I say.

“Sorry about that,” Lennox says. “He didn’t even give me a chance to gloat properly.”

I laugh. “Feel free.”

“I will.” She pauses. “So tell me everything.”

“Not on your life.”

“Damn. Being an agent to men is so boring sometimes. No one likes to spill any details.”

“How about this, she matters, okay?”

“No shit.”

“No shit,” I reiterate.

“You’ve gone and fallen for her.” She claps her hands together and then fights whatever giddy female response she wants to give and clears her throat. “Sorry. I had a moment.”

I shake my head. “So I need some help with something.”

“You need a favor? You never need one.”

“Not really a favor per se. A favor is when you need something for someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“Go on.” Intrigue laces through her tone.

“This? This is deserved.”

“So why do you sound so cautious?”

“Because this matters, Lennox.” Because she matters.

“Ask away. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Whitney

Seven Years ago

The tears burn brighter than the pain in my knee, but nothing outburns the ache in my chest.

It’s gone. All of it.

I stand at the foosball table, hands braced on its edge, and watch the tears drip onto the worn playing surface. One after another, making a puddle there.

“What’d the doctor say?” Patrick asks as he walks in.

I don’t look up. Can’t. I know if I did, he’d be standing there with his trademark whistle hanging around his neck, his blue canvas sun visor shading his eyes, and his graying hair sticking up at all different angles from a day spent in the breeze outside.

“Lucky? Talk to me.”