Page 82 of Sweet Redemption

“Shit.” My phone slips from my hand onto the plush carpet as I slide the dress over my head. “Sorry.”

“When are they meeting?” Liv asks while I hunt for shoes.

“I’m not sure. I think he was talking to your mom tonight.” Scarlet runs the football team King Corp. owns, while dad runs the Revolution. And together, they’re president and vice president of King Corp. We’re all about keeping it in the family.

“Okay, fine. I need more details,” she laughs. Actually laughs, like any of this is funny.

“Listen you, I’m one step away from losing my shit.” I groan as I reach for a box on a shelf above my head, because where else would the shoes I want be? Some days I hate being short.

“Better than one step away from an anxiety attack. I’d say that’s an improvement. Go you.”

“I hate you,” I groan because she’s not wrong.

“You love me. Admit it.”

I buckle the ankle on my brown leather sandals and stare at my reflection for a moment. Pink dress, loose waves, minimal makeup . . . I look at the diamond stud earrings I’ve worn nearly every day since my twentieth birthday. The ones Hendrix gave me. The ones I’ve refused to give up. Is it weird to wear them tonight?

My doorbell rings, robbing me of the chance to overthink the answer, and I pop them both on. “I do love you, Livvy.”

“Good—because we need to talk.”

“I can’t talk now. Hendrix is here.” I grab my purse and make my way down the stairs. “Soon though, okay?”

“Love you, Serena.” She hesitates. “Have fun.”

I end the call, stuff my phone in my purse, take a single steadying breath, and open the door.

That’s when every thought I’ve ever had about taking things slow and protecting my heart leaves my head.

Standing beneath the dim porch light, in dark jeans, white sneakers, another crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a thick leather watch wrapped around his wrist is the only man to ever own my heart. And holy arm porn, Batman, does this man look good. “You’re wearing your glasses.”

Black frames, dark hair, a jaw chiseled from granite, and that stupid sexy mouth curling into a delicious grin have my heart beating a drumbeat behind my ribs that would make any band jealous.

He turns his devastating smile on me. “Figured I had to pull out the big guns.”

I can’t help the laugh that slips out. It feels like a lifetime ago the first time I told him he looked like Clark Kent with those glasses on. “Okay, Superman . . .”

Something changes in his expression, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.

His gaze drifts over me from the top of my hair down to my toes, and heat crawls up my body. “You look incredible, Serena.”

“Thank you,” I offer softly and pull out my keys. “Let me just lock up.”

Seconds later, his palm settles against the small of my back, barely a touch, but it wakes up something inside me that’s been dormant for longer than I’d like to admit. We walk toward the massive black SUV sitting in my driveway, and Hendrix opens my door and steps aside. “Got a curfew tonight, Kingston? Because dinner might run a little late.”

I step up on the running board and slide into the passenger seat before turning back to him. This man who’s known me most of my life. Who’s loved me and held me when I cried, cheered me on, and broke my fucking heart. He’s known almost every version of me. Almost. And I can’t stop wondering how we got here and if I’m really going to be able to do this.

“I mean.” I pull the seatbelt across my chest and click it into place. “Even Cinderella had to be home by midnight, right?”

His eyes flash as he nods and closes the door.

I guess it’s time to find out whether I can really do this.

Hendrix

Don’t fuck this up is the only thought running through my head as we pull away from Serena’s house. Well, that and don’t stare at her legs. Don’t touch her legs, for that matter.

Fuck.