Page 155 of Lucky Shot

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

Whitney

“Whitney. This is Lennox. Hardy’s agent. You don’t know me, but I’m going to beg you to get down here to the stadium before Hardy does something he’s going to regret. Conference room thirteen.”

Lennox’s message replays in my head.

During the drive to the stadium where I broke many speed limits, my entire search for room thirteen in the stadium, and during each and every unanswered text and call I sent to Hardy’s cell.

There are voices on the other side of the door to conference room thirteen. My heart is pounding erratically, and my thoughts are running a mile a minute.

What in the world is going on?

I push the doors open without thinking and am met with several curious stares. But the person most surprised to see me there is Hardy.

He sits with a thick stack of papers in front of him and a pen poised in his hand.

“Whit? What are you doing here?” he asks, his eyes flickering to Lennox and back.

“Hardy? What’s going on?”

“Everyone clear the room, please?” Hardy asks.

The lawyer-ish types on the one side of the table nod and clear out, but the woman at Hardy’s side stands but stares at him.

“Lennox. Go.”

“Hardy. This is a mistake.”

He looks at her and then signs the document in front of him. She emits a muffled gasp and stares at him dumbfounded.

“I need to speak to Whitney,” he says.

Lennox shakes her head and walks out of the room.

I wait for the door to shut. Things start to fall into place and dread fills me.

“Hardy. What did you just sign?” I ask.

“A contract to play here with the Miami Mayhem.”

“You what?” I gasp, my heart falling to the floor.

“You’re right. It’s not fair to ask you to uproot your life for me. That academy and those kids are everything to you and . . . I can’t ask you to leave that all behind for me. It wouldn’t feel right. It’s not a bargaining chip.”

“Hardy. You just can’t do that without talking to me.”

“Yes, I can.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I brace my hands on the top of my head and struggle to breathe. The weight of his words and his actions are immense.

“Why is it ridiculous? It’s showing you that you and your well-being mean more to me. I have more money than I’ll ever be able to spend. I’ve played at the highest levels and won everything but a Champion’s League title. But you know what?” he asks as he moves toward me. “Dreams change. Dreams adjust. And then you find a new dream to chase. A life with you?” He reaches out and rubs his thumb over my bottom lip. “That’s my new dream.”

I struggle to speak. To think. To fathom that this man is willing to walk away from a career some tout as one of the best so I don’t have to walk away from my kids and my found family.

I lean forward and brush a kiss to his lips. There’s salt in the taste and I’m not sure if it’s him or me who’s crying.

“That is the biggest, grandest gesture . . . the most genuine sign of love and respect that anyone has ever shown me.” I rest my forehead against his and just breathe in the enormity of the moment and the sacrifice he’s willing to make.