10. Fountains

FOUNTAINS

Hudson

"There's just something about playing on a college field again," I say as we head toward the bus.

"Stands full of hot babes who still believe in love and don't just see us as a paycheck," Grimes states sullenly.

Boone gives his shoulder a squeeze. "Pretty sure it's more about us not being able to shower in the visitor locker rooms before hitting the bus, smelling like sweaty ball sacs."

"That shit, for real," I agree. "It's an adjustment practicing in the desert heat after playing in Blue Valley, where it's already been snowing off and on for a couple of weeks now."

I reach into my duffle bag to pull out my phone, checking in with The HartHive, our family group chat. That's all the social media I need or can handle, to be honest. Having no phone for close to twenty-four hours messed with me. I had my tablet at my place, but that plane ride was brutal.

Boone leans in and whispers, "Stay off the social gram, Hart."

"Why? What's up?" I ask, confused.

"Oh shit." Grimes laughs from behind us, and we both turn back. "She's really gonna marry that tool, and she's doing it Vegas style."

Grimes holds out his phone, showing us a picture of … Riley Mae Brooks wearing her wedding dress in front of that iconic fountain here in Vegas.

Livid that I returned the dress, basically allowing this, I scan her little paws and see no sign of a wedding band, but it's only a matter of time.

I don't even realize my feet are moving until I hear my name being called from behind me. But I don't stop. I'm locked in and going hard, the endzone has taken a new form—a black Camary with a decal telling me it's some sort of cab thirty yards away, dropping off a chick. I need to catch it.

"Hold that car!" I call out, and thankfully, the student who got out hears me and stops.

"Thank you," I call over my shoulder to them as I slide in. "I need to get to that fountain in front of that hotel, the?—"

"Bellagio?" she asks.

"Yeah, that's it." I sit back in my seat. "It's an emergency. Break whatever traffic laws you need to; I'll pay your legal fees to make it all go away."

She peels away from the curb and nails the gas.

"That's what I'm talking about." My laugh is unrecognizable to me. It's nervous.

I'm fucking tweaking.

Breathe, man, I tell myself as I turn my focus out the window, hoping to see the strip coming into view like now. There is nothing I can do but sit and wait, maybe pray.

I reach into my bag when I hear the faint sound from the new phone that I haven't set up completely yet, just added the numbers I knew by heart and Boone's, only to realize it's in my other hand.

I read the text from Boone.

Boone: Heads up, the only thing I could think of to tell Coach Cox was you thought you shit your pants before getting back to the hotel, so you grabbed a cab. Proud of your crazy ass, Hart.

I hit him back.

Me: Thanks for covering. No clue what I'm doing right now or will do if I get there in time, if anything at all. So hold your praise. See you back at the room.

Boone: See you then, Champ.

When I look up, I see we're entering the city, and the streets are already buzzing. Normally, I'm intrigued by that, but that energy has nothing over the adrenaline surging through my veins right now.

"Question," the cab driver says as she swerves in and out of traffic.

"I'm all ears."

"You're Hudson Hart," she states.

Fuck me, I grumble to myself.

"My stepson plays for VCC and was invited by UNLV's coach to attend practice today with their team to meet you all. He missed it due to a court appearance he couldn't get out of."

"That's too bad," I reply, happy to have a distraction from my rampantly moving thoughts and failing at trying to keep my shit together.

"What's even worse is he's stuck in community college, playing football for a team that will never get coverage, so he won't gain the recognition for how amazing he is. He can't get back into UNLV until these legal troubles are behind him." She lays on her horn as she tries to get past a delivery truck. "The worst part is he's guilty and proud of the fact he beat the snot out of two guys who were beating the hell out of another student just off campus his freshman year when he was playing for UNLV."

"Sounds like he did the right thing."

She nods. "And that's why his old coach is fighting for him. Well, that and the kid is a natural talent."

She's looking for help, help that I am sure I can provide if what she's saying isn't bullshit. If she's for real, I'll do what I can.

"I don't know you, but if I can help, I will."

"I just want one good thing to happen for him, you know? It's a big ask, but is there any chance I can get you to use my phone and maybe record a message telling him to hang in there and he'll get through this? You know, kind of inspire him not to give up?"

"Yeah, of course."

She passes her phone back to me.

"What's his name?"

"Ryder Maverick."

I do my best to keep her phone steady as she weaves through traffic.

"Hey Ryder, I'm Hudson Hart, the New York Knights wide receiver. I'm in your stepmom's car. She's talking you up, kid, and you sound like an amazing young man and a talented football player. You fight through the troubles you're facing, and I sincerely hope to see you on the field one day. God bless, champ."

"Thank you so much," she says, voice full of emotions. "This may change his life."

"It's no problem at all."

My pulse begins racing even faster as we blow through a red light, narrowly missing a crossing tour bus. My heart is in my throat, but there's no turning back now. This is it, my last shot to stop Riley from making this horrible mistake. I just hope we get to the Bellagio before they end this little photo sesh, and move on to some little chapel, and do the whole name-change thing.

In a city where chaos reigns supreme, her driver's hands are steady on the wheel, her movements precise. I have mad respect for her skill and the way she seems to remain calm.

Finally, the fountains of the Bellagio come into view, the water jets dancing in perfect harmony. The cab skids to a halt at the entrance, the brakes screaming in protest as I throw open the door.

"Tickets for tomorrow night's game if you stay right here and wait for me?"

"Oh my God, are you serious?"

"Damn right, I am. Keep the meter running," I call over my shoulder as I sprint toward the crowd.

I can't see a fucking thing; there are too many people. I want to scream at them to get the hell out of my way, but again, I try to keep my shit together as I search and search for her.

Then a miracle happens, and I see Lo in a black dress, standing there with a shit-ass grin on her face. She glances around, and I follow her line of vision.

I see Sydney, Maggie, Izzy, London, and shit … Jade.

Panic threatens to take over, but Lauren gives a slight nod to the left and mouths, "Go."

That's when I see Riley's back as she stands alone by the fountain.

Adrenaline takes over and I'm running to her.

Steps away, and she turns, facing me. The calm demeanor that was initially donning her stunning features morphs into anger.

Not sure what the fuck I'm thinking when I crouch down, charge at her, grab her up, and throw her over my shoulder, but I quickly realize it may not have been the best way to approach her.

Her hands are in my hair when she yells, "Ew, you're all nasty."

This makes me fucking laugh as I run toward the car.

"Put me down, you asshat!"

"Can't let you do it, Brooksie," I say as I run her like a football to the waiting car.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" she yells as I tuck her into the back, slide in behind her, and try to remain calm when I tell the woman in the driver's seat, "Get us out of here, please."

As she shifts into gear, Riley attempts to open the door.

"Oh no, you don't." I snake an arm around her middle and hold her back. "I'm risking my career to save you from a life of misery. You will give me a few fucking minutes of your time."

"You're out of your damn mind."

"Yeah, well, that shit happens when not one but two people you respect lie to you for two fucking years. So, the way I see it, you owe me a few damn minutes."

"I will give you ten, and then you and I are done having this discussion." She glances toward the driver, who is looking in the rearview mirror at Riley and obviously waiting for consent, which Riley gives with an eye roll and a slight nod.

"I'll take you two somewhere to chat, and then I'll take you back to wherever you need me to take you."

Riley nods to her. "Thank you."

My phone spouts off, and I grab it off the seat where I'd left it when I tore ass out of the car.

Unknown: I have Riley's phone. Let her know I have Mom and the girls convinced she needs more time and sent them to the hotel bar. I'll be waiting here for her.

Me: Thank you. But you need to be with your group. There are freaks out there.

Unknown: You don't say …

Me: Give me shit another time. I'll message when I return her. But If I can't convince her not to marry the shitbag, it's on you, Lo.

She doesn't reply.

I drop my phone on the seat and clear my throat to draw Riley's attention from the streets to me.

"No disrespect to the chick driving, but we're not having any discussion that could show up online."

"She's cool. Plus, cab drivers have to take some kind of Hippocratic oath, like therapists and doctors."

"Cab drivers?" Riley looks at me like I'm insane. "This isn't a cab."

"Not all cabs are yellow. There are Ubers and Lyfts everywhere now. She was dropping off at UNLV when I spotted the sticker on the back window."

"Where's the meter then? The visor paperwork, the?—"

"Yeah," the woman cuts her off, "so I was dropping off my daughter, and, well, you seemed desperate."

"Shit." I scrub a hand over my face.

"I've taken no oath, but you have my word," she assures me. "I'm hoping you'll still get me those tickets? I already sent Ryder the message."

"Yeah, of course." I roll my neck in hopes it relieves some of the tension. "I'll get your number and have them sent to you."

"I appreciate you."

"That makes one of us," Riley mumbles.

"Riley, you can't?—"

"No disrespect to your new friend," she cuts me off, "but my personal life is fucking personal."

With that, I shut my damn mouth, and within a couple of minutes that seem like hours, Ryder's stepmom, my new friend, is pulling off the strip and into some sort of park that is completely empty.

She puts the car in park, turns, and looks back. "You good?"

Riley nods.

"I'm going to step out to give you some privacy; please don't steal my car."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I assure her.

She looks at Riley for validation.

"He's not typically this ridiculous. Your car's safe."

"My name's Beth; if you need me, call out my name."

I laugh because it reminds me of that KISS song. Her eye roll tells me she's heard that a time or two.

As soon as Beth is far enough away, Riley smacks me with her flowers. "You don't get to laugh at her when you've just basically hijacked her from her life, Hart."

"Beth, I hear you calling, but I can't come home?—"

She smacks me again. "You don't think I know that? I'm an 80's and 90's rock girl, asshole." She leans back. "Your freaking time starts now."

"You can't give me," I sing, "just a few more hours …"

"We're not at the fucking Brewery tossing jokes back and forth across my bar right now, Hart! What you just did was wrong!"

"What you're about to do is far worse!" I yell back.

"And what exactly was I about to do?" she snaps.

I wave my hand up and down. "Marry someone who doesn't deserve you."

"Oh yeah, and you think you deserve to?—"

"I don't know if I deserve you," I cut her the fuck off. "I've spent my whole life not trusting too many people. Blue Valley changed that. You … you … Fuck!" I knot my fingers in my hair. "The day I heard you were engaged, I felt some sort of way. I even told my sister that I wanted to put you on a shelf so no one could ever hurt you, and he will, Riley. She told me to go for it, but my hands were tied. Do you wanna take a guess as to why?"

She looks down.

"You lied to me, fucked me out of that whole first crush experience, and let me believe I fucked your sister, so I'd never allow myself to even jerk off to the thought of you." Okay, that may have been too much info, but whatever. "I never felt this"—I pound my fist against my chest—"this fucking thing I swore never beat right because I didn't connect like that with all the chicks I've fucked. I didn't even know I fucked you, so it had not a damn thing to do with sex. It was all here." I motion between us. "You lied to me—fucking hurt, too—and you may think I don't deserve this moment, and that's cool. But I will never regret not opening myself up and bleeding all the fuck over because pissed or not, you, Riley Mae Brooks, don't deserve to live a life with someone who doesn't want to make sure no one ever hurts you again. Someone who chooses fucking golf over a few hours with you, even if it's just staring at you across your bar. I'm begging you, please don't marry him, even if it's not to date me, just find someone who deserves you."

"That was"—she pauses—"a lot."

I close my eyes and beg, "Don't marry him."

"Hudson."

I open my eyes, and she's holding up her hand.

"I gave him back his ring last night. Today was my sister's whole mess the dress idea. I owed her this because I should have never …" She shrugs.

Nodding like a fucking bobblehead, all hopeful and shit, I ask, "Yeah?"

"But you and me?" She shakes her head. "I want to be single for a while; I want to heal my relationship with my mom and Lo; and …" She shrugs. "I'm not ready to just jump back into?—"

"Like I said," I cut her off from drowning in her words, not wanting to make her feel like shit, "you deserve better than him, and you know that. It's all worked out now."

Fuck this … rejection? It feels like … complete and total shit, but it is what it is. I'll have to take comfort in having a hand in putting Riley Mae Brooks on a figurative shelf.

I open the door. "Beth, we're all set here."

I watch her walk toward the car and keep my focus on her because, yeah … what the fuck is this feeling?

When she slides in, Riley asks to take her back to the fountain so she can rejoin her group.

When we pull up to drop her off, I clear my throat. "Congratulations on your not-wedding day."

She smiles softly. "I appreciate it. See you soon, Hart." She shuts the door behind her, and I fall back against the seat.

"I know I'm asking a lot, but can you take me to my hotel?"

Beth and I stop so she can get gas. I, of course, pay for it, and I use the ATM to withdraw whatever the max they allow to pay her for her time, and she gives me her digits so I can send her the virtual tickets when I score them.

Before she pulls away from the curb, Beth rolls down the window. "Can I offer you some advice?"

"You sure can."

"Don't relent. Give her a couple of days, but then you go hard after her. She's into you, kid, but she's probably terrified of dating a player."

When I walk into the lobby, Logan is waiting for me. "How's your IBS now? Is it better?"

I thought Boone told them I had the shits, not an entire fucking disease. "I'm good."

"Team's up on the tenth, chilling before dinner. I'll head up with you."

"Thanks."

I notice there are even more Knoxville Knights shitheads gathered behind the security guards this time.

When we enter the elevator and the doors close, Logan shakes his head. "Guessing that's why our CFO is Daddy Links now?"

Logan chuckles. "You're guessing right. Just keep it under wraps; we don't want them fucking with the team's morale."

"Why grown-ass people don't have anything better to do than be assholes is beyond me."

"The more fans you gain, the more haters follow," he says, leaning against the wall.

"Which is why I stay off social media," I admit. "If I see one person fuck with my people, I'd end up getting canceled."

He looks me over. "You good, Hart?"

"Fuck yeah. Ready to win tomorrow."

"Your head's in the game?"

"The world could be coming to an end. Alien ships hovering above the field, and I could turn it all off and focus on the game, the win." It hits me like a helmet to the nuts that he knows something, so I ask, "You good?"

"We win this game, and Philly loses to Dallas, I'm better than good."

"I can do my best to make the first happen; the other's out of my control."

When the elevators open, I see Lauren, Sydney, Maggie, Izzy, and London wheeling suitcases down the hall on our floor.

"It's easier with security to keep everyone on one floor."

"I get that," I say as my eyes connect with Lauren's, and she grins. I lift my chin. "Put them on a shelf if you got to, right?"

"Whatever it takes," Logan says before heading toward his wife.