Page 137

"I do," I whispered. “I swear to God I fuckin’ do. You know I love you baby.”

She turned back to me, her brown eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite read. "Then you need to set me free."

I froze. The words ripped through me, leaving me breathless. "Serenity…"

My voice was hoarse, strained.

She gave me a soft, sad smile. "You have to let me go." I clenched my fists, fighting back everything in me that wanted to say ‘no’. But looking at her, seeing how tired she was, how done she seemed… I knew she meant it, she was done with us. And it destroyed me. For the first time in ten years, I had nothing to say.

I was lyingin bed thinking about the conversation I’d had with Serenity weeks ago. We were on a road trip, one of our last games before the playoffs.

Set me free.

Those words echoed in my head. I wanted to give her what she wanted, but I couldn’t. There was nothing and no one that would ever convince me that Serenity and I didn’t love each other, so very much. She was meant to be my wife; she was meant to be the mother of all of my children. I wanted her, needed her, craved her.

Whenever I walked into a room my eyes automatically looked for her. Whenever I heard a joke, I looked to see if she thought it was funny too. There’s no way God didn’t intend for her to be with me. Not with the way he allowed me to love her.

Before I could dwell on it, my phone started buzzing letting me know I was getting a call. I grabbed it from the nightstand next to the bed and saw it was my mama. It was late here in Atlanta, almost 2AM, so I knew whatever it was, couldn’t be good.

“What’s up Ma?”

"Creed…" she sniffled.

I immediately sat up. "Ma? What’s wrong?"

"It’s your grandfather, baby. He’s in the hospital. You need to come home."

The next morning, instead of flying home with the team, I took the first flight to Dallas. When I walked into his hospital room, I barely recognized him.

Joseph Monroe was the strongest man I knew. Even when he wasn’t saying much, even when he let his presence do all thetalking—he was solid. A leader, a teacher, a father to me in ways no other man had ever been. And now, lying in this hospital bed, he looked so… small.

I hated it. I hated that I couldn’t fix this.

"Look at you, kid," he rasped, his voice weaker than I’d ever heard it. "All grown up."

I swallowed the thick lump in my throat and forced out a smile. "Always been grown, Pop. You just never wanted to admit it."

His laugh was barely there, but it was enough. "You might be big now, Creed, but I still see that little boy with them big ol’ eyes following me around, begging to hold a wrench."

A small chuckle slipped out of me. "I just wanted to be like you."

He smiled, proud. "And look at you now. You did even better than me."

I shook my head. "Don’t do that."

His hand gripped mine, tighter than I expected. "I mean it, son. You made something of yourself. And you still got so much more to do."

The weight of his words hit me hard. I couldn’t picture a life without him in it. I didn’t want to. "You gotta promise me something," he murmured.

I nodded quickly, not even knowing what it was yet. "Anything, Pop."

His eyes softened, but there was a deep seriousness behind them. "You take care of your mama," he said. "She’s gonna need you when I’m gone."

I clenched my jaw. "Stop talkin’ like that."

"Creed—"

"No," I cut him off, voice thick. "You ain’t gone yet."