The Striker's Chance (18 page)

Everything else was cripplingly forlorn. He drifted through the days, not hearing his own answers to post-match interview questions, not tasting the dinners he half-heartedly prepared in his silent kitchen, spending an hour turning pages in a book by the light of the single lamp beside his bed only to realize he hadn’t absorbed a single word.

Maybe he was getting old—or going insane. Either way, he was dreading the off-season.

The curtain rustled as it shifted aside, and Kepler let out a preemptive sigh of exasperation.

“Honestly, I don’t need a—Holly?”

Okay, maybe he did need a CT scan, because he seemed to be hallucinating. He closed his eyes and reopened them, but she was still there. In fact, she was running over to him. Crying.

“I was so worried,” she whispered as she flung her arms around his neck, enveloping him in the freesia scent that still haunted him, waking and sleeping. His hands automatically went to her waist, to the impossibly sweet curve that was just the right fit for his palms. The shock of familiarity was staggering, and for a moment he forgot everything that had passed between them, consumed instead by an impulse to bundle her against his chest, tighten his arms around her shoulders and never let go.

She pulled back in his grip, swiping at the tears drying on her cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she murmured with the beginnings of a smile as her eyes searched his. “I mean, you are okay, aren’t you?”

He nodded, and she laid her small, cool hand along the side of his face.

“Holly,” he began, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

“I can’t believe I ever thought it was a good idea to try to make you into someone else, or that I could possibly improve on the original. You’re perfect, Kepler, and I love you just the way you are.”

“You what?” he stammered. Then she was kissing him, those soft lips crushing his with a naked, selfless yearning that had his heart squeezing in his chest, his already foggy brain slipping even deeper into a befuddled haze.

This is what was missing from his life, he thought with sudden certainty as his hand moved to the nape of her neck, her silky hair sliding across his knuckles. He’d been telling himself otherwise for months, assuring himself that he was over her, that he’d moved on, that he’d never felt that strongly for her in the first place.

But there was something uniquely lonely about leaving the field for an injury. Sure, the applause was warm and hearty as he walked off, but Kepler knew that as soon as he disappeared into the tunnel the action would start again. He’d be absent in the minds of the fans until the next morning when they read a one-line reminder of it in the post-match write-up. No one wanted to know he was sitting in the medical suite in the stadium, or being rushed to the emergency room or spending hours waiting on test results. The game went on, the ball flew through the air, the clocked ticked down to victory for someone and he would be alone and forgotten.

When he was driving the ball down the pitch or scoring a goal he was the most vital person in the stadium. As soon as he walked off the field, no one cared.

Except Holly.

All he’d wanted was someone who cared for the real him, who saw past the uniform and the TV coverage and the fat paychecks. Someone for whom he was just as important off the field as on it.

Holly’s hands clutched his shoulders, and he thought of the way she’d burst into the curtained area, the way she’d scanned him from head to toe as if to assure herself he was still in one piece, her little speech about—wait, what was it she’d said?

Did she say she loved him?

He broke the kiss and held her at arm’s length, working hard to organize the thoughts jostling for attention in his still addled head. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to ask, but he blurted out the first one to force its way to the front.

“How did you get in here?”

Her face fell. “I snuck in, sort of. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—oh my God, are you seeing someone? I didn’t mean to—I didn’t think—”

Kepler hushed her. “It’s fine. I was—”

“They’re ready for you upstairs.” The doctor swept back into the exam area and arched a surprised brow as she noted Holly’s presence.

“I wasn’t aware you had a visitor.” She shot him a look that clearly asked, is this woman bothering you?

“I was just leaving.” Holly kept her eyes fixed on the floor as she took a step toward the exit. “I’m glad you’re okay, Kepler.” Then she slipped through the opening in the curtain and was gone.

The doctor shrugged and returned her attention to her clipboard. “Ready?”

Kepler stared at the place where Holly had just been, the curtain still rustling from the force of her departure. “Ready.”

* * *

Holly sat in the driver’s seat of her car, staring at the steering wheel as rain pummeled the windshield.

Just turn the key.
Start the car
,
pull out of the hospital parking lot and go home.
Pretend this never happened.

But she felt paralyzed. Humiliated, devastated and empty.

What had she expected, barging in on him like that after months of radio silence?

It had all played out differently in the fantasy she’d constructed as she sped over to the hospital. She’d rush into the room, he’d be grinning and grateful and as dashingly handsome as ever, she’d hurl herself into his arms and he’d wrap her in his embrace, whispering romantic pledges of undying love into her hair. Then they’d leave the ER hand-in-hand, drive back to his house and spend the next several hours catching up on weeks and weeks of neglected lovemaking.

That first glimpse of him perched on the exam table—still in his rain-soaked Discovery uniform and muddy cleats, his face pale, his movements unsteady—sent her expectations crashing to the ground, replacing them with a new emotion: the urge to take care of him, to help him, to shoulder as many of his burdens as she possibly could.

But he’d squinted at her as if he couldn’t imagine why she was there.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory, which sent a fresh stab of pain through her core.

The knock on the passenger-side window roused her from her self-pitying reverie. Holly turned slowly, bracing herself to see a stormy-faced hospital security guard or Discovery staff member poised to give her a lecture about respecting other people’s privacy.

Kepler’s tall form was hunkered over, and he gave a little wave as she met his gaze.

With her heart in her throat, she punched the button to unlock the doors and he slid into the seat beside her, filling the small space with the scents of cedarwood and rainwater.

“You left so quickly,” he stated without preamble. “I have a lot to say to you.”

She bit down on her lower lip. Had he chased her out into the parking lot just to tell her off?

“I had a knock on the head earlier and my thoughts are moving a little slowly, so bear with me while I try to explain myself.” He reached across the gearbox and took her hands in his, and when she looked up to his face his eyes bore into her own.

“You were in a tricky position,” he said, his forehead creased with the intent of his words. “You didn’t know what to do, but you fixed it the best you could. I shouldn’t have let you go so long thinking that you’d messed things up. I should’ve realized immediately how lucky I was to have you—and how stupid it would be to let you go.”

Holly held her breath, not quite willing to believe what she was hearing. Kepler’s fingers tightened around her own.

“If it’s not too late, I want to go back to where we left off. I want you in the stands when I play. I want you in my bed when I wake up. I want you in my life every hour of every day. I love you, Holly.”

For a long, stunned moment, the only sound in the car was the insistent rhythm of the rain on the windshield.

He squeezed her hands, his expression begging for a response. “Did I say the wrong thing?”

She slowly shook her head. The joy that bubbled up expanded so rapidly in her chest that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to draw breath to speak, but somehow she managed.

“It feels like I waited a long time to hear you say that.”

Kepler cracked his signature, charming smile. “I ran out here as fast as I could.”

She reached over and smoothed the rain-damp hair across his forehead. “Right back to where we left off?”

He nodded. “Or a couple of steps forward or back. Whatever you want.”

“I want you. Just you. Any way I can get you.”

His cheeks spread into a broad grin. “Come here, gorgeous.”

Holly clambered across the space between them to settle into his lap. She draped her arms around his neck and tucked her head beneath his chin, closing her eyes against the smooth skin of his throat. As Kepler’s arms came around her to lock her into a tight, warm embrace, she knew this man and this moment was as real as it got—and there was no improving on either one.

* * * * *

About the Author

Rebecca Crowley inherited her love of romance from her mom, who taught her to at least partially judge a book by the steaminess of its cover. She writes contemporary romance with smart heroines and swoon-worthy heroes, and never tires of the happily-ever-after. Having pulled up her Kansas roots to live in New York City and London, Rebecca now resides in Johannesburg, South Africa. Find her at
rebeccacrowley.net
and on Twitter at
@rachelmaybe
.

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ISBN: 9781426896255

Copyright © 2013 by Rebecca Arata

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