Intercepted (New Hope #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Mason

I've mentioned it before, but I detest seeing myself on camera. It's uncomfortable and unbelievable to think that strangers have an interest in my words, but they do. I've already watched the video once today with the kids, so instead of staring at the screen, I keep my eyes on Mallory. Not surprisingly, she refused to sit next to me. She remains standing, a tiny fireball of hurt, lashing out at the source of her wounds—me.

"Breaking news out of Dallas," the announcer says, shuffling the papers on his sleek, black desk, Dallas's team logo behind his head. "Former quarterback Mason Reeves just released a statement to the press regarding recent news that he's been cleared to play in the upcoming season. We'll take you right to that clip."

Mallory is an absolute mess, and she's never looked more beautiful to me. With her smeared mascara, red-rimmed eyes, torn sweater, and faded skinny jeans. Her sneakers have left paths of dirt throughout my penthouse. It's the most personality this apartment has seen in five years. It makes seem as though someone actually lives here, which is a welcome sight.

She twists a strand of hair around her finger, brushing the ends against her lips as she watches the broadcast. The screen switches to the video footage June shot earlier this morning. I'm sitting behind the desk in my office, wearing the same suit I'm in now. I look straight into the camera, donning a take-no-prisoners expression.

"Good evening, Dallas," I say, smiling congenially. "I'll get straight to the point, yeah? While it's true that the NFL has cleared me to play, I will not be retaking the field this season. In fact, I am announcing an early retirement."

Mallory whips her head around, shock etched in her features. I nod once, signaling for her to continue watching. When I start speaking again, she turns back to the screen.

"I love football, and I've loved playing for such an enthusiastic, wholesome city. I've dedicated most of my life to this sport, and while it was my dream to play professionally, it was never my only dream. Right now, I'd like to focus on what is most important to me. It wouldn't be honorable to accept this position when I can't promise to give it my all.

"Thank you for five years of unwavering support. It has not gone unnoticed. Without our fanbase, we wouldn't have made it to two consecutive Super Bowls. It is my hope that you grant my successor the same level of loyalty, and that we continue being one of the best teams in the nation. Again, thank you, and have a great night."

Mallory finally sinks onto the cushion, her limbs falling loosely at her sides. I wouldn't be surprised if she simply fell into a coma right here and now. I've never seen her this exhausted, even on the anniversary of David's death. Her skin is waxy and pale, her eyes flat. I ache to wrap her in my arms, but I don't want to push her.

"We've been on the same page this whole time, baby girl. You've just been reading the book upside down."

"Oh," is all she says. She fiddles with the frayed edge of her sleeve, gnawing on her thumb. "You're not taking the deal?"

"No," I answer immediately, my fingers twitching, wanting to reach for her. "Not for the NFL, or any other organization. Not for this season, or any future seasons."

"But..." Her eyes cloud with fresh tears. She looks at the ceiling, her chin trembling. "I said such hurtful things."

"Most of them were true."

She glances toward me, her gaze flickering across my face. "Why would you let me scream at you like that?"

"Because I deserved it."