Page 49 of Hart Breaker

“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.”

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