Page 43 of Sweet Redemption

This isn’t going to work. I drop the shot to the counter and grab my purse. “I’ve got to go. Apparently, I still have a job to do.”

Aurora steps in front of me, not willing to let me off so easily. “You can’t avoid us forever, Barbie.”

“I know.” I sidestep her and reach for the door. “But duty calls.”

“How about we meet for coffee this week?” Saylor pushes, clearly concerned. “And don’t give me that crap about work. You said it yourself, you shouldn’t even be there anymore, coffee Barbie. I refuse to take no for an answer.”

I look between the two of them and catch my mother moving my way.

“Fine,” I tell them, needing to get downstairs. “Coffee. Now I’ve got to go.”

“Tell Hendrix we said hi.” Saylor wiggles her fingers, and I turn my back on both of them.

Some days, I’m glad I’m an only child.

By the time I get downstairs, Dad is smiling from ear to ear off to the side of the raised platform. Coach Deacon Kane sits on one side with Nixon Sinclair, the captain, in the center, and his co-captain and brother-in-law, Ares, to the left. Surprisingly, there’s no sign of Hendrix. I’d have figured he’d have been out here. His first game with the Revolution, and he scored two points in the first period before he was pulled. Deacon doesn’t like to overplay his starters in preseason, and Hendrix wasn’t just traded to be a starter. He’s going to be a star.

Dad sighs and leans against the wall, his shoulders drooping. Seemingly exhausted.

Guilt churns in my gut. “You okay, Dad?”

“I’m good.” He turns his face toward mine. “You sure you want to give this up, sweetheart?”

“It’s your dream, Dad. Not mine.” I didn’t even have to think about my answer. But you rarely have to think through the truth. “Just because I don’t have soccer anymore doesn’t make hockey my dream, and I don’t think I can figure it out from here.”

He wraps an arm around my shoulder and tugs me against him. “Yeah . . . Your mother might have mentioned that.”

“She’s a smart woman.” I swallow down some of the emotion bubbling beneath the surface. “I’ve got a few interviews set up for next week. So I’m not gone just yet.”

“Love you, Serena.” He drops his hold on me. “See you tomorrow.”

And I slip away as he joins Deacon to answer a few questions about the upcoming season.

I feel like I’m sneaking out as I step into the hallway outside of the locker room and come face-to-face with a ghost.

“Running away again, Serena?”

Every muscle in my body locks tight.

That voice. Low and warm and amused. God, the memories it brings with it.

I turn slowly to find Hendrix standing just outside the locker-room door. Freshly showered. His dark hair still damp. A sharp charcoal suit and crisp white shirt, sans tie. Top two buttons open at his throat because apparently, I haven’t suffered enough.

Teammates file out from behind him, smacking his shoulder as they go. But he doesn’t pay a single one of them any attention. He’s too busy looking at me. His gaze drops slowly from my face to the neckline Mom was judging earlier, then lower before coming back to my eyes. Not remotely subtle, but then again, he never was.

Heat crawls over my skin like a fire getting too close.

Asshole.

His mouth curves, and there it is.

That smile.

The one I haven’t seen aimed at me in over three years.

The smile I used to love.

My heart pounds like hoof prints in the sand, but I force myself to breathe.