Page 24 of Penalties and Proposals

“So being mad at me gave you something, or somewhere, you could channel your energy, huh?” I ask, meaning each word and being okay with it. When she nods her head, I reach over instinctively and squeeze her knee. “Hey, it’s okay. I was a right jerk to you. If you needed me to be the fall guy, I was the perfect villain.”

“When I found out thatAthletic Edgewanted me to takepictures of you and spend time with you while I was here, I bucked wildly against it. At least I wanted to,” she corrects herself, laughing. “But they’ve dangled a promotion over my head that I need. That we need.”

“It’s a good thing, then?”

“If I get it, I’ll leave LA and instead be based in New York City. But I don’t need to live there; I’ll be able to live closer to my mother and not only help her if she needs it, but pitch in to get her out of this hole she’s in.”

“Where does she live?”

“Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia.” Willa smiles. “It’s beautiful there, right on the border of West Virginia, Maryland, and—”

“And Virginia,” I finish her sentence. “I know, I’ve been there. I go there, a lot.”

Her eyes widen with surprise. “You do?”

“River City plays outside of Richmond, Virginia. I keep an apartment there for weekdays and our home games, but after rehab, I invested in a small horse farm in Leesburg.”

“Leesburg is, like, over two hours away from Richmond.”

“Exactly. I wanted to be able to get away to give myself space from all of it. The game, the city, the temptations that can happen when you live around a lot of things to do …” I say this with an easy chuckle, but it wasn’t something I did lightly. “Leesburg offered me country living without all the hassle. I have someone who works for me at the stables and runs things.”

“So it’s not technically a horse farm, as in, you’re raising them, but you rent out stables?”

I nod. “That’s the plan for now, but I don’t know. I wanted it for a reason; I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”

“Your farm is about thirty minutes from Harper’s Ferry.” She shakes her head incredulously.

“You got it.” I smile at her, our conversation surprising me. Not only because we seem to have dug well below the surface in a small amount of time, but also the ease at which we both seem to be sharing our innermost secrets. Well, at least I am. “I’venever told anyone about the horse farm being something I may want to pursue. Most of the guys on my team back in Virginia think I just live in the country.”

“You’ve never invited anyone to come out to the farm?” she asks. “I’d show it off. That’s such a beautiful area. Talk about rolling hills.”

“Well, now that we’re friends, the next time you visit your mom, maybe I can show it off to you?” I make this offer without any expectation, but judging by the weight that suddenly hits my middle, it’s an invite I really hope she says yes to.

“We’ll see,” she manages, her eyes making their way to meet mine in the back of the darkened car.

“I’ll keep apologizing if I have to, Willa. One thing I learned doing my own self-discovery was how far and wide my choices reached when I was acting so destructively. Hearing the pain you were in when we met, it’s no wonder you hated me.”

“Wanted to hate you, but there’s a fine line between love and hate, isn’t there?” She chuckles. “I’m realizing now there is a difference, though, between actually being angry at someone versus having them be a part of the hurricane that is the crapshoot landing in the dumpster fire that was my life. All that to say, I accept your apology.”

“So we’re on a clean slate?”

She smiles, holding out her hand. “Clean slate.”

We’re sitting in the back of the car, the hum of the engine the only sound breaking the silence between us. Yet here we are, about to make an agreement that could change everything.

The gesture catches me off guard, a moment of vulnerability that makes my heart race. Our eyes meet, and for the first time in a long while, I see something beyond the wariness and caution in her gaze. And that pounding in my heart? It’s back.

When I place my hand in hers, the warmth of her touch sends a jolt through me, and suddenly, I’m acutely aware of just how much I want her to see the man I’ve become. Her grip is firm,steady, and her hands are soft, smooth, gentle; in that simple handshake, a rush of emotion floods through me.

This isn’t just a handshake to clear the air—it’s a chance to rewrite my story with her, to prove that I’m not the reckless guy she once crossed paths with. Her hand lingers in mine, and I’m in no hurry to let go. Our eyes lock together, hers bouncing back and forth, looking at me as her lips part and she takes in a breath of air. Once again, that pouty lower lip of hers almost beckons to me.

At this moment, I know. I know that I’m falling for her. It’s more than a need for redemption—it’s a genuine desire to be with Willa, to show her I’m worth her trust. It’s a foreign feeling to me and the body slam it gives is enough to shake me to my very core.

The car begins to slow down as my breath catches. Willa breaks our gaze, leaning forward to look beyond the windshield at the neighborhood where we’ve arrived.

“We’re here, Mr. Beaumont,” the driver announces as he pulls into the driveway of a log cabin home tucked back into a grouping of pine trees.

I throw open my door and hop out, Willa scooting across the seat and about to jump out behind me. I hold out my hand to help her step down and incline my head toward the house. “Ready for this?”

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