Cheyenne just didn’t know that yet. And neither did his family.
Hardy stood still for her display, hating himself for it. The instant she pulled her fingers out of his face mask, he turned away from her, his eyes scanning the hundreds of faces for one in particular. And he found it.
Sitting about halfway up, looking directly at him, was Miracle. Her eyes were alight with the excitement of the crowd and her cheeks were flushed with pleasure. He was certain Cheyenne, arguably the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, had ever looked so amazing.
Miracle smiled at him and waved shyly. As always, he was spellbound, raising his hand to return her gesture automatically. He didn’t realize that he’d tuned everything else out until someone smacked the side of his helmet.
“Bradford, man you’re up.”
Reluctantly, Hardy pulled his eyes away from Miracle and jogged to the huddle. They’d lost the coin toss and the opposing team had opted for getting the ball first in the second half, which meant that Hardy and his offense would have the first opportunity to score. And he had to do exactly that.
It was under the watchful gaze of Miracle and the rest of the town that Hardy had the best game of his life. His stats were off the charts and the one time he’d glanced at the scout his father had pointed out—the one time he’d glanced at anyone other than Miracle for that matter—he’d seen him give a nod of approval.
One down, six more to go, Hardy thought, hoping he could perform so well in front of every scout that was likely to visit. Football was the key to his future.
For Wayne Bradford, it was his chance to live vicariously through his son, to live the life of a professional football player. For Hardy, it was about going to a college that would allow him to pursue his dreams, not everyone else’s. But still, football was the vehicle that would get him there, so in the end, he and his father shared the same goal—impress the scouts, get the scholarship.
Hardy dawdled on the field longer than usual, chatting with everyone who wanted to congratulate him. All the while, he kept an eye surreptitiously trained on Miracle as she descended the stands.
When she’d reached the bottom of the bleachers and was making her way toward the exit, Hardy excused himself and jogged to the fence ahead of her. She stopped when she reached him, her eyes sparkling like the gemstone they so closely resembled.
“You were incredible.”
Hardy was positive no one else’s praise had ever made him feel more alive, more successful, more invincible, more like a winner than Miracle’s. He beamed, not knowing what to say; thank you seemed far too trite. So he just stood there smiling like some sort of brain-dead imbecile.
Finally, Miracle chuckled and nodded. “Well, I guess I’ll see you Monday.”
That jarred Hardy out of his stupor. “Wait. What are you doing tonight?”
“Going home I guess. Why?”
“Do you want to come out with us? I mean, do you want to come to a party that one of the other football players is throwing?”
Again, Miracle made that face that said she was going to say no even though she dreaded it. Hardy got the feeling she didn’t like to say no. He didn’t think it was because she was spineless. No, hardy fully suspected it was because she was so concerned with other people’s feelings. Miracle was selfless and he’d never met anyone like her.
“Um, I don’t think so, but thank you.”
“I promise you’ll have fun. It won’t be anything like…” Hardy hesitated to bring up her earlier pain, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut before he’d even alluded to it. “It’ll be fun. Really,” he said, smiling broadly in hopes of recovering his blunder.
Miracle smiled tolerantly. “I appreciate the offer, and I’m sure it’ll be fun, but I think I’m just going to go home.”
When Miracle began slowly inching her way forward, Hardy knew there was no changing her mind. He searched for something else to say, for some way of talking her into going, but he couldn’t think of a single thing that might convince her. If she’d suggested something else she’d rather do, he’d have jumped all over it. If it meant spending time with Miracle, Hardy would’ve gone anywhere she wanted to go.
But instead, he had to watch her walk away.
“Congratulations,” she called back to him before she and her sister disappeared into the crowd.
“Thanks,” Hardy said, doubting that she even heard him. He had the ridiculous desire to chase after her, but even as the thought skated tantalizingly through his mind, reality intruded.
“You know, I’m beginning to think there’s something going on between you two.”
Cheyenne stood behind Hardy, arms crossed over her chest, chin set at an argumentative angle.
Hardy sighed, turning to walk away from her. “There is nothing going on between us, Cheyenne. I just can’t be rude and obnoxious to people the way you can.” He didn’t really care if she heard the words he’d tossed over his shoulder or not.
“I told you I didn’t know about the scar, Hardy. I didn’t do it on purpose. I was trying to be nice by inviting her, by including her.” Cheyenne was scrambling to keep up with him.
“Yeah, right,” Hardy mumbled under this breath. He didn’t doubt that Cheyenne didn’t know about the scar; how could she? What he did doubt, however, was that she ever had an altruistic motive for anything she did.
“Why are you acting like this?” she asked as they neared the field house, her voice dropping into a hushed tone. Hardy turned on her so quickly, she nearly bumped into him. “What the—”
“Cheyenne, this was over a long time ago. I think it’s time we make it official.”
Hardy was perversely pleased when he saw the blood drain from Cheyenne’s face. He suspected this would be one of the few times in her life she’d be dumped. Did he dread the fall out? A little. Was he shamefully thrilled to get to do it, though? Yes, he was. He wouldn’t have enjoyed it at all if he thought it would actually hurt her, but he knew it wouldn’t. What it would do was bring her down a peg or two, temporarily at least, which was something he felt she and her monstrous ego were in desperate need of.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am, Cheyenne. Very serious.”
“But…but what about your future? Our future? What about this season?”
“I can win games without your help, Cheyenne. And you and I both know we never really had a future.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true.”
“You don’t really believe that.”
“Actually, I do. I don’t know how we’ve lasted this long. I guess I’m a lot more selfish than I thought.”
“Do I need to tell you how much you’re going to regret this?”
“No. Because I won’t. I feel better already.”
Hardy felt his lips curve into a genuine smile of relief and satisfaction. Cheyenne’s eyes narrowed and her lips thinned as she watched him.
“This is about her, isn’t it?”
“Who?”
“Miracle.”
“No. It’s about the fact that I’ve hated myself for dating you for almost a year now and I’m over it. I’m done.”
“You just keep telling yourself that, Hardy, but you’ll be back. I’m not worried.”
Even as the words left her lips, Hardy could see that Cheyenne was very much worried. Unfortunately, he also saw a dark spark of determination light her eyes and it was just enough to give him pause.
“Goodbye, Cheyenne.”
With that, Hardy turned his back on her and made his way into the field house to shower and change into his new life.
********
Never had a party been less fun. As Hardy wandered aimlessly through the tight crowd of bodies, speaking only when spoken to, he realized that this scene was not one he’d ever really preferred. He’d always gone to parties because Cheyenne wanted to, because all his friends went and, well, because he’d always done it. He’d never been willing to mess up the good thing he had going in his life. The funny thing was, he had completely deluded himself about the “good thing” part.
Hardy leaned against the front door jamb and stared out into the night. He had no interest in being there—at the party. He didn’t see one person he really wanted to talk to, one person he really wanted to spend his Friday evening with. What he really wanted was to see Miracle. And she wasn’t there.
As he was making up his mind to leave, Cheyenne came sauntering up the front steps toward the door, toward him. From the fingers of her left hand dangled a small black bag. The smile she wore warned Hardy that she was up to something. She looked far too pleased with herself.
When she stopped in front of him, she just stood there swinging the bag. Hardy took the bait. “What’s that?”
“I think it’s a camera case, but I can’t be sure. I didn’t open it.”
Hardy’s eyes narrowed on Cheyenne. He was immediately suspicious.
“Whose is it?”
“I don’t know. I found it in my trunk. I don’t know where it came from.”
Hardy gritted his teeth. He should’ve known this was how Cheyenne would handle a slap to the ego—with retaliation.
Reaching forward, Hardy jerked the strap from her fingertips and unzipped the bag to look inside. Although he didn’t know what kind of camera Miracle used, he knew this one was expensive. And broken. He could see several small pieces of black plastic littering the bottom of the bag.
“What did you do to it?”
Cheyenne’s lips twisted into a satisfied smirk. “I might have dropped it when I was getting it out of the trunk. I can’t remember.”
Hardy stared at her for several long seconds, reminding himself that he was strictly against strangling a woman. “You know, I hope you realize that this just makes my decision easier.”
Cheyenne’s smile faltered. He knew he’d hit his mark. She was so concerned with getting revenge, with hurting Miracle, she hadn’t thought of how her actions might affect her cause.
Hardy was convinced there was no longer any chance that Cheyenne might still be a decent person deep down. She was shallow and vapid and vicious and, at that moment, he detested her.
Pushing his way past her, Hardy descended the steps and headed for his car. He didn’t want to acknowledge the kernel of pleasure he felt at having a reason to seek Miracle out, the seed of gratitude he felt that she’d left her camera in Cheyenne’s trunk. No, he’d rather deny that. Instead, he focused on getting it back to her and what he would say when he showed up at her door.
By the time Hardy pulled up in front of Miracle’s place, he was actually nervous. There were lights on in the tiny house and it was well before eleven on a Friday night. Surely they wouldn’t mind him returning Miracle’s property to her, would they? Getting out of the car and walking the short path to the front door, Hardy wiped his damp palms on his jeans before he knocked.
He heard some thumping followed by muted voices before he a stronger, older voice spoke. She was very near the door.
“Mila, I’m not letting you answer the door in your pajamas. Now get back to your room, young lady.”
After a short pause, locks clicked and chains slid before the door opened a crack. Hardy looked down into the face of the woman who had to be Miracle’s mother, but looked more like her older twin.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry to visit so late, but I was hoping to speak to Miracle for just a minute if it’s not too much trouble.”
Hardy watched Miracle’s mother study him first with a discerning eye and then with a carefully concealed grin.
“Sure. Come on in,” she said, stepping back and opening the door further.
Hardy stepped inside the small living room, casually taking in his surroundings. While it was obvious there were no designer furnishings in the house, Hardy doubted he’d ever been in a cozier home. He could practically feel the love and happiness and acceptance seeping into his skin.
“Have a seat. I’ll get Miracle.”
Hardy walked to the comfy-looking sage green sofa and perched on one cushion, letting the camera bag dangle between his knees as he waited. From somewhere down the short hall, he could hear hushed voices and excited whispers. He tried to tune them out, as he’d always felt eavesdropping was rude even if it was unintended.
Despite his efforts, some things reached his ears anyway. They made him smile.
He’s so frickin’ hot, Miracle! What’s your problem?
He has a girlfriend, Mila. That’s my problem!
Then steal him from her, dumbass.
Mila, watch your language! Miracle, you’ve got company. Don’t keep him waiting.
After Miracle’s mother spoke, the whispers died off and a door could be heard shutting. Seconds later, Miracle appeared at the edge of the living room.
“Hardy, what are you doing here?” she asked politely, the ghost of a smile flirting around the edges of her mouth.
Hardy surmised that Miracle was in her pajamas as well, as she wore a thick robe, belted tightly and wrapped snugly around her. He couldn’t help but wonder what her sleeping attire looked like, that it must be so thoroughly hidden from strange nighttime visitors.
“Hardy?”
Shaking his head to loosen the grip of thoughts of her in skimpy clothing, Hardy cleared his throat before he answered.
“Um, it seems you might’ve left your camera in Cheyenne’s trunk,” he said, extending the small black bag he carried toward her.