Текст книги "The End Game"

Автор книги: Kate McCarthy

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Текущая страница: 27 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

“No,” I answer again.

My teammates relax beside me when I don’t expand further.

“Are you and Brody still together?”

Seriously? A proud, strong man has been forced to his knees with the public reveling in his downfall and I’m supposed to just abandon him? It’s all I can do to keep the tremors of fury from my voice. “Yes, of course we—”

My coach butts in. “That has no bearing on why we’re here today.”

The media gives him their attention. “Just how vigorous is drug testing in the Australian teams, Coach Riley? Is the entire team undergoing rigorous screening? Has Jordan Elliott been tested?”

I want to close my eyes because they were all right. I’ve had hate mail, vicious messages, slurs from teammates, and now the media is joining in. I lift my chin and straighten my shoulders, and as my eyes scan the room they land on my brother standing at the back. He’s leaning against the wall beside Jax.

He shakes his head at me, disappointment so sharp in his eyes I feel the stab of it clear across the room. I glare for a brief second before shifting my gaze away.

“Soccer is a clean sport,” Coach retorts, the veins in his neck pulsing angrily. “My girls are elite athletes who train hard and train right. If you start casting aspersions on any member of this team I’ll have you thrown out of this room.”

Cameras return to me when the next question is called out from somewhere in the back. “Jordan, did you know Brody Madden was taking drugs? And do you think his fine and suspension is fair, despite his decision to retire? Professional athletes are in the spotlight and should be setting an example for the younger generation. It seems to me that more should be done about the use of drugs in sport. Instead they’re getting minimal punishment and having it swept beneath the rug.”

The room falls silent, the only noise coming from the click of cameras and light whirr of the microphone. They want an answer and I’m prepared to give it to them. My only hope is that Brody is watching and can hear my words.

I draw a deep breath and lean forward. “It’s not about what’s fair. It’s about what it takes to be the best, and every expectation that comes with it.” I glance across at my coach. He closes his eyes for a second, resigned. “It takes everything you have. People put you up here,” I say, holding my hand up high. “But being up there is hard, and it’s lonely. And if you fall, it’s a long way down and no one’s waiting at the bottom to catch you.” My voice cracks and I have to pause for a moment. Jax gives me a silent thumbs-up from the back of the room, encouraging me to keep going. “The pressure to live up to that is immense. So immense that sometimes people do whatever it takes not to bow underneath it, or god forbid, break. And if they do, it’s only because they were human. People make mistakes. Every single day. It doesn’t mean they aren’t strong enough, or didn’t give enough. It means they gave too much and they tried too hard. It means they deserve forgiveness from those who were expecting too much, and from those who were supposed to be there supporting them when it got too hard.”

Please hear what I’m telling you, Brody. I’m not angry. I’m heartbroken. I need you to forgive me for not being there when you needed me.

The media regroup and a reporter from the front catches my eye. “Jordan, how do you feel about being selected for the team?”

I break out in a blinding smile at her question. More camera flashes fill the room. “I’m excited and I’m thankful to be here right now, to be a part of the Australian soccer team, to be selected for something so great,” I answer. “And when I go out there and give my best, I won’t be doing it just for myself or my country, I’ll be doing it for Brody too, because he’s still a good person, and maybe he isn’t the best in your eyes anymore, but he still is in mine.” My eyes fill with tears and that’s okay. I don’t care if they see them. “He’s still the best in mine.”

My phone rings later that night, waking me from an exhausted sleep. Training that day was long and rough, and I was so glad to get back to the hotel, to have Jaxon there to laugh and joke with, and pretend for just one night that everything was fine.

I reach for the phone from the bedside table and answer without checking the screen, my voice husky with sleep. “Hello?”

“Jordan.”

I hear the quiver in Brody’s voice. My grip tightens on the phone. I shoot into a sitting position, wide-awake in a single instant. “Brody?”

He sucks in a sharp breath as if hearing me speak his name hurts. “Yeah. It’s me.”

“You asshole!” I shout. “Do you know what I’ve been through? You just up and left. You left me! And what, it takes me talking to the media for you get in touch? Screw you, Brody,” I hiss. “If you’re phoning just because you’re pissed for what I said then you can just hang up right now.” My chest is thumping with anger. “In fact, I’m going to do it for you.”

I jab the red button, ending the call, and as I sit there in the dark, my breathing harsh and my body trembling, panic begins to claw its way up my throat. What did I just do? With shaky fingers, I go to my recent calls list to hit redial but the number listed is unknown. I can’t phone him back.

Before I can scream my frustration, it rings in my hand. Wild with relief, I press the green button and put the phone to my ear. “Brody? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just—”

“Stop. Please.”

I press my lips together. Silence reigns for a long moment before Brody speaks again. “I watched your press conference.”

“Yeah? I watched yours too.”

He huffs. It’s followed by another length of silence. “It was …” Brody trails off before trying again. “I didn’t deserve what you said, but it was beautiful.”

“I meant every word.”

“I know you did, baby. I know.” That he understood what I was saying lightens the heavy weight from my shoulders. I slump back against my pillows, and when Brody speaks again his voice is rueful. “I should’ve known.”

“Known what?”

“You looked so calm up there. So strong. You didn’t let them mess with you. Not a single bit. I thought leaving would protect you. I know it hasn’t. But you never needed me to.”

“What are you saying?” Does he think I don’t need him? The thought sets off a shiver of fear. I pull the covers up, burrowing into their warmth. “That you think I don’t need you? Because I do. It’s so dark and cold without you.”

Brody chuckles. “That’s because it’s just gone midnight there in Australia, and it’s winter, right?”

“Really? You’re going to—”

“Going to what?” Brody prompts.

“Nothing.” I decide to ask him straight out. “Are we done? Is that why you’re calling, to tell me we’re over?”

“God, no!” he bursts out. “Jordan, baby, I’m calling because there’s something I need to ask you.”

“What?”

Another long pause follows before he speaks, his voice low and soft. “Wait for me.”

I close my eyes. “Wait for you?” I whisper.

“I know I let you down, but I’m trying to make it right. I’m getting help. I’m doing everything I can to fix the mess I made, but I’ve realized I can only do so much without you. Jordan … we all need that one person who sees us. The one who gives it to us straight and tells us how it is. We need that one person who isn’t afraid to get in our face and scream back. That one person who won’t ever hesitate to call you on your shit because they love you. That one person who’ll be there for you no matter what. You’re that person.” He draws in a shaky breath. This is hard for him. I can hear it. And it breaks me apart and puts me back together all at the same time because I believe him. I believe in him. “You’re it for me, Jordan. My end game. So yes, I’m asking you to wait for me. Can you do that?”

“I’ll wait for you, Brody Abraham Madden.” I swallow the thick lump caught in my throat knowing that wait is going to hurt. “I’ll wait as long as you need.”

Jordan

Five years later…

Houston, Texas

The alarm goes off with an ear-piercing shriek. Is it morning already? For the love of god, I only just went to sleep. I shift my head a fraction on the pillow and it starts pounding like a bass drum. A pathetic whimper leaves my throat. I’m not even hungover, I’m just damn tired.

“Make the shrieking stop,” I mumble.

A heavy arm reaches over the top of me. It’s followed by the sound of a loud slap and a crash. The shrieking stops. Peace reigns. I moan my thanks.

“I love you so much,” I say to my heavenly pillow as I burrow my head beneath it.

“Of course you do,” my pillow replies with a deep male voice.

Interesting. I nudge the fluffy cushion with my nose and encounter armpit, the hair beneath it tickling my skin. I scrunch my nose as I roll to my back and an arm follows me, settling across my chest. The warm, calloused hand attached to the end of it gives my breast an experimental squeeze over my tank top. “The question is,” the voice comes again, “just how much?”

Despite my stubborn determination to get another ten minutes, my nipple betrays me, peaking at the touch. A thumb brushes over it and the pleased groan of aroused male reaches my ears. Heat begins a steady throb between my thighs.

“Daddy!”

It’s Brody’s turn to whimper. His hand shifts down to settle on my ribcage with reluctance. “Pretend we’re asleep,” he mutters to me.

“I am asleep,” is my muffled reply as I grab my real pillow and shove it over my face.

“Daddy!” The screech is getting closer, as is the sound of feet pitter-pattering across the thick timber flooring and into our room. “It’s game day!”

We both remain studiously still. Brody jostles beside me, and I know it’s Hadley shoving at him. She’s the more demanding of our two girls.

“Wake up!” she shouts.

I swallow the chuckle when he gives up without a fight. My bed dips beside me as he shifts up on an elbow. “I’m awake, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sweetheart. I’m Haddie.”

“You’re my sweet Hadley.”

“I’m not sweet. Sweet is for girls.”

I shake my head. Uncle Nicky has been getting in her ear.

“You are a girl,” he argues.

Another shout comes from near the bedroom door.

“Avery, do not throw—” Brody begins as I’m lifting my head from underneath the pillow, just in time for a football to smack me up the side of my face. “—that.”

“Game day!” Avery yells.

The alarm begins to shriek again as I fall back on the bed, holding a hand to my cheekbone. Great. It’s going to swell and bruise, and I’m going to look like ass for Brody’s big day.

“Baby, you okay?”

I open my eyes to mere slits, finding my husband hovering above me with concern furrowing his brow.

“Fine,” I mutter as he reaches across me to turn the alarm off for a second time.

I’m used to it. It’s just another morning in the Madden household. Chaotic. Crazy. Exhausting. That’s what happens when you end up with twins. They’re three years old, and still Avery won’t sleep through the night. Why is it she wakes up at all hours screaming for me (no one else will do), but it’s her daddy she seeks out during the day? It’s unfair how he gets such a lovely, unbroken sleep, waking up all refreshed while I resemble the living dead. All I want is one night of uninterrupted bliss and when the possibility of one looms bright on the horizon, Brody takes advantage. His hands and tongue are too skilled to ignore, try as I might. In no time at all he gets me hot and bothered and suddenly I’m all, ‘who needs sleep anyway?’

“Sorry, Mommy.”

I turn my head. Avery is standing on my side of the bed, her curls a tangled mess and her weapon now tucked safely beneath her arm.

“No throwing the ball in the house,” I instruct for the millionth time. “Who gave you that anyway?” I ask, my cheek throbbing. “Where’s your soccer ball?”

Haddie bounces onto the bed, half landing on her daddy. A loud “oomphf” escapes him. “Daddy kicked it over the back fence,” she informs me.

My brow arches and my lips pinch as I turn to look at him. “Oh he did, did he?”

“But I’m not ’sposed to tell you that.”

Brody shrugs, eyes wide with feigned innocence as Avery climbs on the bed alongside Hadley. “I didn’t mean to. I can’t help it if I can kick a soccer ball further than you.”

“Is that so?” I look from him to the girls. They’re not identical, and for that I’m pathetically grateful. Hadley’s hair is long and smooth like mine, the color a rich honey. Avery’s hair is white-blond chaos. Both girls have their daddy’s brown eyes and also his deep affinity for football. After having the twins, I signed a new contract with the Houston Dash and while Brody brings them to watch my home games, it’s gridiron that gets them excited and jumping in their seats. “Well your daddy was telling me just last night that he was going to make you banana pancakes for breakfast this morning!”

They both clap and squeal while my husband groans. It sets our two mini dachshunds barking from somewhere downstairs. I hear the tick-tack of their claws on the floor, and I know they’re scrambling for the stairs. They know we’re awake now and that means food.

“I’ll make some for you too,” Brody says in retaliation as I scoot from the bed. He knows full well warm banana is the one food that makes my stomach pitch. I’m retching at the very thought before I even make it off the bed.

“You just try it, pal, and you’ll be wearing them on your face.” And with that lovely threat, I escape bedlam for the sanctity of our half bathroom, shutting the door just as Thor and Jon Snow race in, hope in their eyes and tails rotating like helicopter blades.

I take a nice deep breath and lean over the vanity, inspecting my face in the mirror. The right side is swollen and red. Awesome. Today is going to be great. After a mere ten seconds of peace the door opens, injecting chaos into the little sanctuary. I actually think I might cry.

“Please,” I whimper, the sound drowned out by screaming girls and barking dogs.

“Mommy!” Avery shouts, because apparently I must be hard of hearing. “Daddy said we could wear our ballerina dresses to football!”

I grip the edge of the vanity, trying to find my happy place. It proves elusive. “No, you’re not wearing those to the football.”

Hadley interjects. “But Daddy said—”

“—we could,” Avery finishes.

Brody steps in behind the girls, taking up every inch of space with his wide frame. “I said no such thing.”

“Oh? What did you say?” I ask, looking at him via his reflection in the mirror.

The corners of his lips quirk up. “I told them to ask you.”

My eyes narrow. “You couldn’t just say no?”

He takes on the expression of the walking wounded. “And break their sweet little hearts?”

“Mommy!” Hadley stomps her foot and frustration has me grinding my teeth. Why do I always have to be the bad guy? “I want to wear—”

I give both girls a firm look. “No.”

Hysterics ensue. Brody ushers them all out of the bathroom. “Cartoons are on the television. Go downstairs and I’ll be down in a minute to make your pancakes.”

Appeased for the moment, they leave, their chatter and dog barks slowly fading. I let out a deep sigh and look again at Brody through the mirror. He steps up behind me, arms sliding around my waist and hands resting on my lower belly where a tiny bump is burgeoning. He rubs it lovingly as he lands a kiss on my shoulder. “How’s our little guy doing in there?”

“You don’t know it’s a boy. I’m only twelve weeks along.”

“It’s a boy.” His lips touch my shoulder again, eyes lifting to look at me in the mirror as he trails kisses up toward my neck. I tilt my head, giving him access without a second thought. “God wouldn’t be so cruel as to leave me alone in a house full of estrogen.”

“That’s what Thor and Jon Snow are for.”

Brody’s hands rise from my belly, roaming up over my ribcage until he’s cupping my breasts. They grew a full size after the birth of the twins and much to my delight they didn’t shrink again. I have cleavage. “But we never win anything. We’re a sucker for you girls with your pretty hair and scheming eyes.”

I turn around, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat. Brody grips my hips with his big hands, drawing me toward him until our hips press flush together. “And I’m a sucker for you.”

The emotion in my eyes makes his own soften in response. “Aren’t you glad you waited for me all those years ago?”

I bite down on my lip, the distant pain surfacing like it always does when I think of how he almost died. The months following were the best of my career, and some of the worst of my life. The media circus eventually faded away, the next tantalizing story waiting around the corner.

Our team won the FIFA World Cup, and I gained a new kind of attention. Fox Sports did a big feature on me, from where I came from to where I ended up, portraying me as some kind of survivor. It didn’t just make me cringe, it somehow made me into the darling of professional soccer.

Interviews, soccer camps, and sponsors took all my time. Wherever I went I was signing soccer balls and jerseys. It was surreal and time consuming, and I buried myself in it. We don’t get paid anywhere near what male soccer players get, so taking advantage of every opportunity was a priority. I became the face of Chapstick lip balm and Nike sportswear. My face was everywhere, and when I began my contract as a forward with Houston Dash, they welcomed me with open arms.

But I did it all alone. Brody had his own hell to deal with, pushing me out of it. It’s something I’m still struggling to get past. My husband recovered, eventually leaning on me for support. He built a life with me beside him. We created a family. We forged a future that’s brighter than any star shining down from the night sky. The price we paid for it was high, but our reward is incomparable. Brody proved to himself that he was worth all of it. I’ve never been prouder, happier, nor more in love with this man than I am right now.

My eyes begin to swim, blurring Brody in front of me.

“Don’t,” he says. “You waited when I had no right to ask it of you.” His hands cup my face, thumbs dashing away the tears when they spill over and down my cheeks. “And when you came back to Houston, you didn’t just bring yourself, you brought everything because you and the girls, this little guy…” he rubs my little bump, glancing down at it before staring into my eyes “…hell even the damn dogs, you’re all my world.”

“You’re ours too, Brody.”

He ducks his head, his lips meeting mine. They linger sweetly, but heat follows soon enough. My mouth opens beneath his and our tongues tangle.

“Pancakes, Daddy!” Hadley shrieks up the stairs.

Brody ends the kiss and draws back, pressing his forehead against mine with a deep growl of frustration.

I can’t help the chuckle. “You better go. Your world needs you.”

Brody spins me around and slaps my ass before giving it a loving grope. “Tonight,” he vows as I lean inside the shower, flicking on the taps.

I turn, slowly pulling my tank top up and over my head, dropping it to the tiled floor. It leaves me standing in nothing but a simple pair of hot pink panties.

His nostrils flare. “You don’t play nice.”

“I don’t,” I reply, smirking as I pile all my hair up into a knot on top of my head, “but if you can’t handle the game, then get the hell off the field.”

Brody runs his gaze down the length of me before flicking back up, his eyes intense and hot. “Never.”

Brody

I jog down the stairs to the kitchen, the image of a half-naked Jordan still imprinted in my vision. I love my two little girls but they seriously need to work on their timing. I need to fuck my wife.

Soon, I tell myself. I wasn’t making empty promises when I told her tonight. My brother-in-law is arriving for his four-week annual holiday this afternoon and jetlag or not, he’s taking care of the twins. Nicky won’t mind. He adores the girls. They have him wrapped around their little fingers. Me, not so much. Our relationship has travelled a long and rocky path, especially after the hell I put his sister through, but the arrival of Hadley and Avery won him over. We’re a solid family unit now, and Jordan’s never been happier. Of course I like to think I have a lot to do with that. Making her happy is my number one priority, and I know Nicky sees that.

Usually his visits find us out on the back deck with beers in hand, manning the grill while arguing over the merits of football versus soccer, but not tonight. I’m whisking my wife away for a surprise night in the city at a fancy hotel. Dinner, a cabaret performance, and then me, and so help me god if she snores through the show like she did the last time I organized a night out, I’m going to cry like a fucking baby.

Thor and Jon Snow scramble when I hit the bottom step and the fight is on to see who reaches me first. Jon Snow wins and he treats the backs of my calves to little licks as I make my way into the kitchen.

“Daddy!” Hadley screams from the living area. “I want chocolate chips in mine!”

“Me too!” Avery shrieks.

“Okay,” I call back, willing to give them whatever they want if it shuts them up for even a minute.

I make a quick detour to the French doors that lead out onto the back deck. The dogs spin in circles while I pour food in their bowls. Jordan taught them to chase their tail for a treat. Now every time they get something to eat they orbit each other until I’m sure they’re going to pass out.

When I reach the kitchen a knock comes at the door. Seriously? It’s Saturday morning, and early.

“I’ll get it,” Hadley cries out, excitement in her voice. Any visitor is a good visitor in her eyes, and if she gets to show them her princess pony collection, it makes them a great visitor.

“You will not answer that door, Haddie,” I call back sternly as I head her off at the pass. She grumbles but walks back to Avery, settling on the floor but keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the door.

Twisting the handle, I swing the door wide. Annabelle is standing on the front porch, arm up and ready to knock again. Over her shoulder I see my mother reversing out the drive, not bothering to stop in and say hello.

My parents separated not long after I left the hospital. Mom and Annabelle moved to Houston at my little sister’s insistence. Liam (I don’t call him my father anymore) moved on to a bigger house with a younger woman, his political career soaring despite the drug scandal overtaking the news for weeks. I don’t talk to him. I barely talk to my mother. During my counseling sessions with Doug, I was told forgiveness is the key to moving forward with my life, but it’s a stretch.

At the least I can understand why they are the way they are. I’m not Liam’s son. Married to my mother, he was trapped into raising me, and he did it the same way his father raised him—with harsh words, a violent temper, and constant disapproval. I know my mother loved him once. She told me that years ago after one too many glasses of wine. But their marriage came second to his career and over time it molded my mom into the cold, bitter woman she is today.

I did learn something from them though. I learned how important it is to define myself, rather than let other people define me. I learned that no one is perfect. I learned how to find strength to pick myself up off the ground when I fall, and to embrace my own future in all its uncertainty.

I learned how important it is to raise my girls with acceptance. I want them to succeed in whatever they choose to do, but I also want them to fail and learn how to get over it. I want them to feel free to be themselves, and to ignore those that don’t accept them for who they are.

In our house there’s laughter and joy, and tears and tantrums, but most of all there’s love. Our lives are perfectly imperfect, just how they’re supposed to be.

“Aunt Moo Moo!” Hadley shrieks.

Both girls scramble off the floor and race for the door. My sister is instantly surrounded by screaming little banshees. She crouches and hugs them close.

“Pick me up,” Hadley demands.

“Me first,” Avery argues.

I grin down at Annabelle. “They’re all yours,” I tell her and make a quick escape for the kitchen, going straight for the coffee. Eventually my sister untangles herself, and after visiting their bedrooms and dispensing loving pats to Thor and Jon Snow, she settles into a seat at the breakfast counter to watch me flip pancakes.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, pouring fresh batter into the pan.

“It’s your big game today. Like I’d miss it.”

Nervous twinges fill my stomach. “It’s just a football game.”

“It’s not just a football game,” she argues as I check underneath the pancake to see it browning nicely. “This is the beginning of a whole new level in your career. Everyone is coming to watch. I can’t wait.”

After flipping it, I look up, my jaw set. “Who’s everyone?”

Like my words are a catalyst, another knock comes at the door. The twins commence their excited shrieks and the dogs race from their lazy spot in the sun to the front entryway. Somehow a ball gets thrown and breaks the lamp in the corner. Avery starts to cry. And all before I’ve even left the kitchen.

The front door opens, bringing Eddie, Jaxon, and Carter inside.

“What the hell is going on?”

My gaze shifts to the stairs and lust punches me in the gut. Jordan’s ready and her gaze is taking in the chaos where moments earlier there was peace. Skinny jeans wrap around her long legs, and a black blouse—one that’s entirely too low cut so she’ll have to change—shows off the cleavage she’s so proud of. Tousled waves spill over her shoulders and the dark crap around her eyes makes the blue in them burn brighter. My wife is fucking hot.

“Come here,” I order.

But Avery’s already running for her, her little arms wrapping around her mommy’s legs, the same ones I want wrapping around me right now. “Mommy, Haddie stole my football!”

“I did not!” Hadley yells, running over to my friends and telling them all about the banana pancakes she’s having for breakfast. She then throws me under the bus by telling them I’m adding chocolate chips.

I don’t miss the narrowing of Jordan’s eyes, but Eddie saves me by leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. Then he reaches down and grabs Avery, picking her up. “What’s going on, sweet stuff?” he asks her, settling her on his hip. He scoops the football up with his free hand and herds both twins outside along with Annabelle.

Meanwhile I watch Jaxon and Carter take turns in kissing my wife. “Are y’all done there?” I growl.

“Not quite.” Jaxon grabs Jordan by the hips, pulling her toward him with a smirk. She lets out a little shriek when he dips her. Her hands grab at his shirt, clinging so she doesn’t fall. “Did I hear banana was on the breakfast menu this morning?” he says, a grin on his face as he looks down at her.

Jordan bursts into laughter, but I don’t get the joke. I point my spatula at my cousin. “Leave my wife alone. What are y’all doing here anyway?”

Carter slaps me on the back, reaching around the front of me to grab a handful of chocolate chips from the bowl on the counter. “Heard there was a big game today.”

My gaze shifts to Jordan. “Did you tell everyone?”

“I did.” She walks into the kitchen where I finish flipping the last pancake. It’s a little black around the edges so I set that aside for Jaxon. Jordan takes hold of my chin, turning my face to hers. “Because I’m proud of you,” she says, “and I want the whole world to know.”

My lips press together. “The media is going to descend, aren’t they?”

“They are, and they’re going to see how happy you are, and how good you are at what you do. Your team is going to kick ass, Brody, and we all want to be there cheering you on.”

I give Jordan a quick kiss on the lips. My wife is my biggest champion. She always has been. “What would I do without you?” I whisper softly.

The twins begin shrieking from outside. We both wince. Jordan follows it up with a chuckle. “Probably live a long and peaceful life.”

“Peace is for old people. I’ll take the chaos.”

Hadley runs inside. “Mom! Eddie kicked the football over the back fence.”

“Good.” Jordan grins. “I happen to know there’s a soccer ball in the pool house. Go get that.”

Another knock comes at the door as Hadley runs back outside. Jordan goes to answer as Eddie comes back inside to get a drink, leaving me to talk with my friends about their drunken escapades last night, Eddie included. He turns from the fridge where he’s grabbing water bottles, his face fire engine red as he blurts out, “I met someone.”

“Who?” I ask, wanting to know who it is that managed to capture the soft gooey center of the Wranglers’ biggest linebacker.

Jordan returns, bringing Leah and Hayden with her before I get an answer. “Mr. Crosby,” I say, shaking his hand. Leah steps around him and takes my shoulders, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Mrs. Crosby,” I add. “Let me guess, you’re both here for the big game.”

Leah’s brows fly up. “There’s a game?”

“Don’t tease,” Jordan interjects. Her friend has always been tough on me. Not so much anymore, but it doesn’t bother me. Jordan couldn’t have picked a better friend if she tried. She and Jaxon barely left Jordan’s side during the World Cup. I watched every televised match and I was there for the final, surrounded by a proud bunch of screaming Australians when she kicked the goal that secured the win. I wanted to go to her then, be there for her the same way she always was for me, but I couldn’t move. My feet stuck to the ground and I choked, struggling with the fear that I’d left it too long, and it was too late.

In the end it was Jordan that found me. I was on the sidelines of the football field in Houston. The grass was freshly mowed and the yard lines painted a rich, brilliant white. A breeze blew low, ruffling my hair. From the bench behind me, I grabbed my baseball cap and tugged it down on my head, shielding bright afternoon sun from my face.

Jordan called my name then, the husky voice sending shivers curling up my spine. It was a voice I dreamed of hearing each night, leaving me awake and wondering if it was a sound I’d ever hear again.

I turned around and there she was. All the longing I’d pushed down for months came rushing to the surface, leaving me short of air. A few short strides and I could’ve touched her, but my feet still wouldn’t move. I held her eyes instead, rooted to the ground as I faced my biggest fear—losing her. “Jordan.”