Mama gave me roots and wings to believe I could be anything, live anywhere, but Blue Belle is where my heart resides. With Sabine next to me. Her roots are here, and I want to give her those same wings. To watch her fly.
I found my glow. It’s Ronan. But it’s also home.
He closes his eyes. “Nova. I lov—”
I put my finger to his lips. “I don’t think I can take those words. Just kiss me, and say what you came to do.”
“Nova—” His face falls. “I—I can’t say goodbye.”
My throat thickens, and I squeeze his hands. “Listen. Find your glow. Discover all the possibilities. Reach for the stars. No one deserves this more. You’re a hell of a coach. You care about those kids and what happens to them. You have integrity. Loyalty. Perseverance. There was a reason you got the Heisman. You are the best quarterback I’ve ever seen. And this? This is your second chance to be close to what you had. I want the world for you. I want everything for you, Ronan: goodness and love and success and all the football achievements and accolades . . .” My voice breaks, and I tug it back. “You deserve your dream job. You do. Take it. Grab it and be happy.”
“God. Nova . . .” He closes his eyes. “Please. You’re killing me.”
I get on tiptoe and press my mouth to his. He parts his lips and clutches me tight, his arms picking me up. I hang on to his shirt, and the kiss hardens, desperation mingling as we yearn for more.
I pull away, gasping for air.
His chest heaves, his gaze bright with unshed emotion. “Nova . . .”
“Go get ’em, darling.” I push out a watery smile, tug myself out of his arms, and then go inside the house.
Chapter 27
RONAN
I step off the helicopter, and a chauffeur ushers me and Tuck to a waiting black SUV. The driver asks if everything is to my satisfaction, and I tell him yes before we pull out of the heliport in lower Manhattan and head toward the offices of the owner of the Pythons, Damon Armitage II.
The morning started with Damon’s personal jet picking us up at a private airstrip in Austin. We landed at JFK Airport, then hopped in the helicopter. All of this was intended to impress me. I smooth down my blue slacks and white dress shirt. My hands tug at my silver tie.
“You look a little pale,” Tuck says as he settles into the SUV. He picks up one of the bottled waters and hands it to me. “It was a bumpy ride.”
I set it down and scrub my face. “I didn’t sleep last night.”
“Adrenaline from the game. I get it.” His hazel eyes study me.
“Yeah, right.” I lean back on the seat.
I couldn’t sleep because of her.
Her words. That goodbye kiss.
I stare out the window at the financial district. People walk up and down New York, coming and going, heads down as they move from one place to another. The bustle, tall buildings, and honking horns are an adjustment. I’ve visited Tuck several times in the off months, but this time, the city feels busier, more intense. I think about my hammock in Blue Belle.
We’re ushered out of the SUV and greeted by Damon’s personal assistant. I leave Tuck and get on the elevator with the PA and head to his office.
He’s not there when I arrive, so I pace around the room, my heart thudding, a feeling of surrealness inching in. For two seasons, my life revolved around kids in Texas, trying to help them be champions. I came up with our motto, Win the heart, win everything, and those words sit like a lump of cement in my gut.
What’s Toby doing right now? Is he working a shift at the bookstore? Is he worrying about his mom? Dammit, I should have checked on her last night . . .
Bruno . . . he’ll be planning a date with his hot cheerleader girlfriend.
Milo . . . he’ll be at Lois’s playing video games.
Skeeter? He’ll step up as head coach and take the Bobcats to state.
Maybe Andrew will apply and get the job next year.
And Nova . . .
My heart splinters. I shut my eyes and force myself to push the images of her away.
Blowing out a breath, I make my way to the trophy case on the right side of the room.
“If all this works out, I’ll need another case,” says a raspy voice behind me.
I turn to find Damon Armitage II, the owner; Coach Bruce Hardy, the head coach of the Pythons; and my agent, Reggie.
Leaning on a gold-tipped cane with a snake on it, Damon walks behind his desk, then sits. Wearing a black tailored suit, complete with an ascot and a boutonniere, he’s in his seventies, rich as fuck, and known as an eccentric firebrand. “I’m glad you were able to fly in, Ronan. We could have chatted over the phone, but then I wanted you in the room.” He waves his arms around at his spacious office. “Nothing beats seeing a man face to face and getting the measure of him.”