Page 49 of Play Hard
I sighed. “It was the second fight I’d been in that week. The school counselor thought I had some type of anger disorder and asked my mother if she would consider putting me in therapy.” The memory froze my insides as I continued to stare at the wingsof that butterfly. “Mama asked her if she’d told Gary’s mother to consider therapy for his ill manners.”
“I like your mother.” Her voice seemed closer, like maybe she’d moved from where I thought she was standing. But I couldn’t bring myself to look away from the stone.
“Later that night, when we were at the kitchen table eating spaghetti with those little smoked sausage because that was one of my favorite meals, Mama told me the reason she loved butterflies was because when the caterpillar died it turned into a beautiful butterfly. She said she was still waiting to become a butterfly, but that hopefully my caterpillar would die sooner so I could show the world how beautiful I really was.”
My voice hitched on those last words, and I felt Serra’s hand at my back. “I told her boys weren’t beautiful.” Shit, my chuckle even sounded broken, and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping for a reset. When I opened them, I glanced at her. “I’m not gonna apologize for beating Bowman’s ass last night. He shouldn’t have touched you.”
She blinked, then rested her head on my arm. “I don’t need an apology.”
“I would never intentionally do anything to embarrass you, Serra. I respect you and your career. So I’m never gonna be okay with someone disrespecting you, let alone putting their hands on you.”
Lacing her arm through mine, she shook her head. “I never thought you would, Noah.”
“But your family did.” I bit those words out, hating the bitter taste they still held after all these years. “I know that’s what your father and brothers were afraid of when we were back in college. They didn’t want the bad boy tainting you and your pristine image.”
“And the NBA player they adored ended up doing exactly that. Irony is a bald-headed bitch.”
Chuckling, I let my head fall back as I took a deep breath and released it. “I used to come here early on Sunday mornings before I had to be at church. Ms. Janie did not play about us sitting in a pew every Sunday morning. Some people in this town wanted desperately for Jesus to save us.” I shrugged. “I wanted that, too. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized He’d saved Mama. As much as that night had ripped my soul from me, it saved her.”
“She’s a beautiful butterfly in heaven. Is that why you had her stone designed like this?”
“Yeah.” I nodded and smiled because I’d never spoken those words aloud, but Serra knew.
I turned then, putting my hands on her waist to keep her there. I didn’t know how she was going to react to what I was about to say, but I didn’t want to chance her running away again. Not that she’d been the one to leave all those years ago, at least not physically.
“I want us this time,” I blurted, then shook my head because that hadn’t come out the way I wanted it to. “I mean, I don’t want to just go with the flow like we were back in college. I know exactly what I want and it’s you. Just you.”
When she only blinked at me, my heart stopped and I continued, “I know you’re probably thinking how will this work with you in New York and me here…well, I’ve got that big ass truck and if I don’t feel like driving I can fly to you. Or I’ll buy you a plane ticket to come here. I know you’ve got your career, and like I said I respect that. You’re brilliant. You were back in college, so I know you are now with your law degree and the sports agent title behind your name.” I took a quick breath. “What I also know without any doubt is that you’re everything to me, Serra. Every damn thing. I can’t…won’tlive without you again. Those years were a second hell and I’m not built for a third one. So, I just need you to say yes that we’re gonna give thisa try. Nod your head, blink twice, smile…shit, sing. I don’t care, justsaysomething, sweetness. Please.”
One tear rolled down her cheek and then another. I immediately moved my hands to her face, thumbing them away. “Serra.” I only managed to get her name out before she started nodding her head, more tears flowing.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes. Yes, we can try. Yes!”
I stopped wiping her tears only so I could kiss her instead.
Epilogue
SERRA
EIGHT WEEKS LATER
NEW YORK
“Be so fuckin’ for real right now.” I sighed and shook my head while staring down at my phone.
Labor Day was a week away. The press conference Zoya had arranged the day before the 4thof July was in the past. At least that’s where I planned for it to stay. Social media on the other hand, had a different plan.
Sports agent Serra Ward is having fun ‘n the sun sailing the Chesapeake Bay with new beau Noah Jordan. Apparently, she didn’t get an invite to the star-studded gender reveal happening on the same day! No worries, though, boo, we’ve got all the pics of what you missed!
That was the caption beneath two pictures—one of me and Noah on the yacht he’d rented last weekend at the Crab Fest on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. My back was to the camera as Ileaned into Noah, his hands firmly on my ass in the white bikini he’d eventually peeled off me. The second photo was of Adrian and Lindsey, also dressed in white, but posing in front of a ‘Free Throws or Bows’ backdrop. His hand was on a much larger than the last time I’d seen her belly, and they were smiling like that was the happiest day of their lives.
I actually hoped it was. After the night at the lake house, I hadn’t thought about Adrian again until Noah found out where that picture of us that night at the bar had come from. Apparently, a woman named Traneeka who’d been in Providence for the summer and Noah had turned down, was the culprit. She’d been outside of the restaurant waiting for Noah to get off so she could convince him she was a good catch, I guess, but when she saw us together, she got mad and snapped the picture. That anger and most likely too much time spent on social media led her to Lindsey’s DMs where she negotiated the sale of the pic.
The next time I heard from Adrian had been when Freddie called to tell me the league had concluded their investigation. Zoya had immediately planned that press release, and at the last minute, Adrian’s PR team asked if it could be a joint statement. For three days I listened to the strategy versus optics debate until I felt like my head would explode.
“Let’s just do it,” I’d snapped on what felt like the millionth Zoom call with my team. “I want this shit over with.”
Noah hadn’t accepted any argument I had for him to stay in Providence. On a sunny day in a hotel lobby in New York, he stood—looking absolutely delicious in an expertly tailored charcoal gray suit—and held my hand while cameras flashed and Zoya gave her statement.
