Hendrix (Raleigh Raptors 3)

"Savannah," his voice was a shocked whisper. And I got to see another wave of disappointment flash in another pair of eyes.

And I hated it.

I hated the look I put there. But I knew it was necessary, and I knew he would be better off in the end. So I just tipped my chin in the air, and shrugged again.

"It's over, Hendrix," I said. "It was fun, but it's not worth your career."

I turned on my heels as fast as I could, knowing if I stood in that locker room and looked at him for one more second, I would break and betray the truth.

Betray that he was everything to me. That he’d become the partner I'd always wanted in life, and that the unfairness of my father's rules had been the culprit to rip us apart.

But I would do it. I would shred myself to bits if it meant keeping Hendrix and his spot on the team. If it meant he continued to play the game he loved and for the money he needed.

"You're serious?" Hendrix asked just as I'd reached the door.

"Absolutely," I said, barely holding back tears as I pushed through the locker room door and let it slam home behind me.

I all but sprinted out of the arena and to my car. Broke speed limits to get home. I barely made it through the door before I yanked out my phone and dialed London. Crying and spilling my guts to her over in a near incoherent tone.

She listened with silent understanding and cried with me as she let me spill my buckets over the phone. As I sank to the floor of my living room and felt my heart slice into pieces.

And I’d been the one holding the knife.

"Tell me I did the right thing," I sobbed into the phone after I'd told her the entire story. "Tell me I didn't just make the biggest mistake of my life."

London remained quiet for so long I almost thought the line went dead. But then she sucked in a sharp breath. "You're making the only choice you feel you can, Savannah," she said sweetly. "Your father put you in an impossible position. And you're being incredibly selfless. I've never seen you be so protective over a person who wasn’t me."

I choked out a dark laugh, nodding even though she couldn't see me. I was only wildly protective of the people I loved. Cherish. Those in my tight knit circle. The ones I trusted who were my true friends, not those who just wanted me for my name.

Hendrix had so quickly become one of those people. Shooting straight to the top of my priority list. Because he was the fire that lit up my soul. The thunder that made my heart skip.

And I had just burned him to ash because of one dumb rule.

Spending two days and two nights crying certainly hadn't done anything for my first-day-of-work appearance. But I’d done my best to hide the dark circles under my eyes with a little bit of concealer.

I did everything I could to hold my head up high as I walked back into the arena. Today would simply be an orientation day with Weston, but I was ready to be distracted by anything that wasn't wallowing in my apartment in misery. A misery I'd created and built and sharpened all on my own.

I stopped short when I heard a familiar voice coming around the hallway, and I nearly stamped my foot. I’d known there was a chance I could run into Hendrix, but I hadn’t realized it’d be so fucking quickly. Another voice joined him, and I froze. Froze as Weston came around the corner with Hendrix, who carried a giant box with him.

A box of mementos from his personal locker.

The pair of them stopped short at the sight of me standing there looking like a zombie most likely—a confused one at that. My eyes darted from the box back up to Hendrix’s face. He looked more ragged than I'd ever seen him in my life.

But his eyes? They were locked on me, and there was such rage dripping from them that I flinched.

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice hoarse from crying so much.

Weston straightened his immaculate suit, his eyes darting awkwardly between us as he realized Hendrix wasn’t going to answer my question.

"I felt the need to escort Hendrix out myself," he said. "A homage of sorts."

I gaped at the two of them. "Out?"

"Yes," Weston said, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from Hendrix, who continued to stare at me with such betrayal and anger that I felt like I might burn from it. "He's been traded to South Carolina."

I gaped at the two of them again. "What? That's not possible —"

"Your father made sure it was," Weston said, a slight pity in his eyes.