And as my father insisted he take London, her family, and myself out for a celebratory dinner, we headed to the parking lot a mess of low laughter and chattered accomplishments.
My heart felt just the tiniest bit of sadness that Hendrix wasn’t enjoying this dinner with us. But there was also hope pulsing right next to it.
Hope that eventually, when I figured out exactly what Hendrix wanted, if I was what he actually wanted, then I could go to my father and be honest with him. Tell him how much Hendrix meant to me. And hopefully my father would understand and invite him into our family.
A sliver of fear crept into my blood at what my father would do if he found out before I was honest with him. But I couldn't do it now. Couldn't risk it without talking to Hendrix first. Because there would only be one thing worth risking the wrath and coming clean with Dad, and I didn’t have a clue if Hendrix was there or not. Wasn’t sure if Hendrix would ever be there with me.
So, I took a deep breath and contented myself with the happiness radiating from my heart in this moment. Such a pure happiness, one I hadn’t felt in such a long time.
And I covered myself with a blanket of hope, thinking for the first time in months that maybe Hendrix Malone and I were something more than a contract.
Something more than forbidden frenzy.
Maybe we could be happy. Indefinitely.
15
Hendrix
The roar of the crowd filled my ears and rumbled in my chest as Dallas received the kickoff. Home games were always amazing, but there was something to be said for the first one of the season. The energy was unparalleled…until we made it to the playoffs, of course. Then shit got crazy.
But this right here? The buzz of excitement, the adrenaline coursing through my veins—there was nothing compared to it. Except being inside Savannah. Nothing even came close.
I’d kept my eyes off the stands since we’d come on the field, but I lost the battle with my self-control and glanced back at the family section. Then that glance turned into a full-on stare as I saw Savannah next to Liberty and Teagan. I didn’t need her to turn around to know that the number on the back of her jersey was mine—I’d seen her put it on this morning because she’d woken up in my bed, whispering happy birthday before giving me a pre-dawn workout. I couldn’t have asked for a better start to my birthday.
My chest swelled as she met my gaze with a grin. Damn, this woman had me tangled up in knots. Every second I couldn’t be with her, I was focused on getting to the ones when I could be.
I was falling for her, and there was nothing I could do about it—nothing I wanted to do about it. Was I terrified? Sure. But it felt like the one and only time Weston had dragged me skydiving. There was no point letting the fear in once I was out of the plane. All I could do was enjoy the fall and pray my chute would open, or in this case, hope Savannah felt the same.
This had started with just sex, but I refused to believe that’s all it was to her now.
As if reading my mind, she tapped her collarbone and lifted her brows.
Then I was the one grinning as I hooked my finger around the delicate gold chain and lifted it just enough so she could see the sunlight catch on the star pendant. I’ve got you right here.
She nodded, then turned to laugh at something Liberty had said.
I tucked the necklace back under my jersey. The thing was so light I didn’t feel it, and small enough that it didn’t interfere with my pads—or get noticed.
Until that moment.
“For fuck’s sake,” Nixon muttered next to me.
“What?” My attention snapped to the game, but Nixon wasn’t focused on our defense, he stood staring at my neck, his eyes widening.
“Tell me that isn’t what I think it is,” he demanded, leaning closer, his words clipped and only loud enough for me to hear them above the noise of the stadium.
“What?” I repeated. Shit. Nix had always been the most observant of my teammates. Then again, he was the quarterback for a reason.
“The necklace, Hendrix. I saw it.” Concern replaced shock in his eyes.
“I don’t know…” I couldn’t finish the lie. Not to him.