25. Jordan
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jordan
THIRD SET: FOUR-ALL
The kind of scoreline that made your bones buzz like a live wire.
My legs screamed. My shirt was soaked in sweat, clinging to me like a second skin. I was running on nothing but pure adrenaline and fumes now, frayed at the edges.
Then I looked up and saw her in the front row in that navy dress. Hands knotted in her lap, mouth parted. Could tell she was just as wrought as I was by the way her chest was practically palpitating.
The world narrowed to that. Just that. Her presence cut through the noise, steadied my pulse, reminded me who I was.
Not the washed-up has-been, not the guy with too many injuries, too many whispers circulated about him.
This wasn’t about proving critics wrong anymore.
It was about proving her right. Showing her why she believed in me.
I tossed the ball, swung, and hit the cleanest ace of my life.
The crowd erupted.
Kate stood, smiling like she owned me.
And I clenched my fist with fire in my blood.
It was time to finish this.
FIFTH SET: 5–4, MY SERVE
Of course it had gone to five. This was Centre Court. It demanded blood and theatre.
One game. That’s all I had to win.
My body was breaking down. Every muscle was trembling. My breath came in ragged shudders.
I shifted my weight back and forth at the baseline, and shifted my eyes up to her again.
She was perched on the edge of her seat, eyes locked on mine like she could drag the ball across the net with just a look.
My heart cracked open. I’d marry her tomorrow.
The thought hit me clean with no warning.
There was absolutely no doubt in my mind.
Just the truth of how I felt. This wasn’t just tennis anymore; this was about us.
About a life I hadn’t even let myself dream about until she showed up.
Three more points.
MATCH POINT
My chest heaved. My hands shook. The roar of Centre Court blurred until all I saw was her.
Rising to her feet with one hand at her heart, the other clenched in a fist her side, her eyes were full of fire now.
I tossed the ball, coiled every part of myself into the motion, and hit.
Unreturnable.
Ace.
For half a second, there was no noise, no air. Then the stadium exploded.
I dropped to my knees, hands to my face. Laughing, crying, I couldn’t tell.
I’d done it.
Wimbledon Champion.
And when I finally dragged my eyes upward, through the blur of sweat and the roar of noise, through the wild tangle of adrenaline and everything I’d ever thought I wanted, there she was.
She was on her feet, clapping, her face lit with laughter…or was it tears? It didn’t matter. She looked like the bloody sun breaking through every storm I’d ever weathered. My girl. My everything.