Page 30 of Serve (Men of Hidden Creek Season 1, #5)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tyler- New York

“C’mon, give it your best shot.” Tyler said under his breath.

He placed himself a foot inside the baseline to receive a second serve from Travis.

This was their second slam final in a row.

The big difference was Tyler had nothing to lose, and it showed in how he was playing.

He looked up to see Travis tossing the ball in the air.

His tongue stuck out to the left, which meant the ball was going out wide.

If his tongue stuck out straight, he’d serve straight up the T.

He lunged in that direction, hitting the ball crosscourt for a winner, and the game.

Travis still didn’t understand how he was able to read his serve so well.

He was a good kid, and he might have to let him know after the match was over.

They changed sides in between games. He’d won the first two sets, and was up a break in the third.

If he could close out this set, he’d have his second U.S.

Open trophy, and it would be his last one.

But he had more important things in mind than just winning.

In fact, the reason he was winning was so he could get to the good part after the match was done.

Tyler signaled to the ball boy for fresh balls.

The kid bounced them in his direction and he stuck two of them in his pockets.

He bounced the third one on the ground a couple of times, making Travis impatient.

He glanced up to the players box and saw Chip sitting next to Dixie, his brows furrowed.

He smiled in his direction, hoping Chip would notice.

He did, and was rewarded with a grin in return.

He wanted nothing more than to get this match over with, the last professional match of his career.

He tossed the ball in the air, and aimed the ball up the middle of the court. Instead of the ace, it went into the net.

“Fault!”

The crowd groaned. Since he’d come out of the closet, his fan base had grown huge.

In fact, it brought in a whole new set of fans.

The Cable Sports Network had noted this when they offered him a job being a sports commentator for the Grand Slams. Only on the road four months out of the year instead of eleven, and the money was fantastic.

It was a no-brainer to sign the contract.

Product endorsements flooded his inbox, and Sania was constantly turning down offers.

If he’d known being out of the closet would be so lucrative, he would have done it years ago.

He took a ball out of his pocket, bounced it on the ground, and took a look at Travis’s face.

He was turning into a helluva good player.

He’d fired Scott after his blackmail attempts were revealed.

According to him, he never knew about it, and Tyler believed him.

He tossed the ball in the air, hitting a safe second serve into the middle of the box.

Travis was on it in a heartbeat, but his nerves betrayed him, hitting the ball long past the baseline.

Tyler shook his head, realizing if he’d just focus, the match would pass by quickly.

He was glad he’d announced it was his last one.

Exciting things were in store for them, including breaking ground on the new Hidden Creek LGBT Community Center, funds provided by the foundation Sania helped him set up.

Thoughts of the future filled his head, and the rest of the set flew by. His game was on auto-pilot, his body in the zone. Every shot pasted the lines, and the crowd was cheering him on. They were also saying goodbye, which provoked him to play at his highest level.

Knowing he was playing the last match of his professional career allowed him to play with abandon.

He didn’t want it to end, but every time he saw Chip’s face in the stands, his heart beat faster.

His future was Chip, and as much as he loved this sport, it paled in comparison to the man who’d conquered his heart.

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, and there was only one thing left to do to make his dreams a reality.

Time flew by as adrenaline carried him through the match.

Travis fought for each point, but his nerves weren’t steely enough yet to win a slam.

Soon enough, he was at championship point, serving for the match.

He could tell by Travis’s bleary eyes and lackluster body language that the younger man was resigned to his fate.

He tossed the ball in the air. Time slowed, and originally he thought he was going to aim it up the middle.

Instead, he turned the racket to his left and aimed the ball directly to Travis’s body, hoping to throw the younger player off balance.

Travis stepped back in time to get his racket on it, but that was all he could manage, sending his return out wide into the crowd.

“Out!”

Tyler dropped to his knees, and put his face in his hands. His racket fell to the court, a sound he’d swear to later biographers had echoed in the silent, electric atmosphere. Moments later the crowd leapt to their feet and roared as the umpire declared Tyler Florman the winner of the U.S. Open.

He stayed on the ground, allowing the cheers to give him the courage he’d need for what was to happen next.

Tyler lifted his head and peeked through his fingers.

Chip was on his feet, a smile stretched across his face, flushed red with excitement.

Aunt Dixie had tears running down her face, while Sania, Emm, and Tina jumped up and down in front of their seats.

He took a deep breath and got to his feet, only to have the screams of the crowd double in volume.

Not only were they cheering him for his victory, they were also seeing him in his last professional match.

They were telling him how much they appreciated him, and his talents.

He didn’t feel deserving of it, but he basked in the glory nonetheless.

Now he had something much more important to do, more important than anything else in the world.

He ran across the court to where his entourage was seated.

Fans stretched out their hands, hoping he’d touch them, or say just a word or two.

He ignored them, climbing up the stands until he was in front of the most important people in his life.

Dixie hugged him, but he detached himself from her arms, and got on his knees in front of Chip.

The roar of the crowd dimmed, grew inquisitive.

On top of the scoreboard was a huge video screen, the entire audience able to see what Tyler was doing, but having to guess at the words.

Chip’s tear-stained face broke into a smile, then he put his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with passion.

Tyler got to his feet and wrapped his arms around Chip.

“What the hell? Good God, it’s about time, Tyler, but in front of all these people?” Dixie said at the top of her voice, loud enough to be overheard by the microphones and cameras pointed at them.

Chip hugged him as hard as he could, then whispered in his ear. Tyler backed away, then ran down the steps to the stadium floor. Former tennis champion Christine Monsoon, now a host for the Cable Sports Network, rushed over to get his reaction to his victory.

“Congratulations on winning the U.S. Open, Tyler! I know you must have a million things running through your head right now, especially since this was also your farewell match. How do you feel?” She put the microphone in front of him.

He stood stock still for a moment, dazed, unable to speak.

Finally he noticed the video screen on top of the scoreboard, which had never left Chip’s ecstatic face.

He smiled, pointed at Chip on the screen, and said the only words that mattered.

“He said yes!”