Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“I’m starting to be able to spend less time with the team and more working on the million other things Norcross has going on. That’s only because Callum is taking so much off my plate. I honestly don’t know how you did it without a great general manager like him. I know you would have really loved having him on your team.”
I pause, thinking through my week, if there’s anything else important I missed. I come here once or twice a week, just to say hello to my brother and have a conversation with him. I don’t have a lot of free time, but the cemetery is on the way home from downtown, and it’s a sadly serene way to end a hard day.
Sighing, I close my eyes and let myself be at peace here with my brother.
Here I can be honest. “I’m so tired, Adam. There’s not enough hours in the day to do everything, and while I’m learning the value of giving up control and relying on people like Callum, I’m still drowning. I wish I could be mad at you for leaving me with this team, but I’m too mad at the universe for taking you away.” I imagine if he were sitting here now, he’d nudge his shoulder against mine and tell me to buck up. “No worries, though,” I assure him. “You know my backbone is made of the same steel that built our family’s fortune. I’ve got this covered. Mainly because I know you’re the angel on my shoulder.”
The single biggest thing I miss about my brother is not being able to talk to him. While this is a poor substitute, it makes me feel better. Glancing down at my watch, I utter a small curse and toss the blade of grass away. “I’ve got to go. I’m doing something tonight that I know you would not approve of, and I’m sure you’re watching over me right now and gritting your teeth.”
Standing, I wipe my backside of grass and dirt before heading back to the Town Car.
It’s closing in on seven p.m. when we pull into the long driveway, and I see Drake’s motorcycle. He’s leaning against it, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle with his palms pressed onto the leather seat. His black T-shirt is molded to his massive chest, his hair pulled back on top but loose below.
He’s a wet dream.
When the car stops, I tell the driver, “I can get out on my own.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I exit the car, sling my briefcase over my shoulder, and saunter toward Drake. He does a slow perusal of me, dragging his thumb across his lower lip in appreciation.
“It appears we’re starting a habit,” I say.
He pushes off the bike, rising to tower above me. His smile is casual and lazy, and it’s a good look on him. “More like an addiction,” he says.
That might be true.
Since Drake’s visit to my hotel room in New York, we’ve been together every night. It’s not been discussed—I had his cell number, and the next afternoon when we were back in Pittsburgh, I texted to see if he was free for the evening. It was the same message as the written note I’d left in his cubby.
If you want to stick it to the league… and then I told him where to be and at what time. I had no expectations he would show up, but he did and has every night since. This included visits to my home and one to my hotel during another away game.
Last night I was surprised he came over. We had a home game, and the Titans trounced the Edmonton Grizzlies, making it three straight wins for the preseason. It was absolutely a reason for the players to celebrate, and I thought he would decline my invitation.
But he didn’t, arriving at my house late last night, again launching me to soar among the stars. I know it doesn’t mean anything other than what he said… perhaps it is a bit of an addiction, because we can’t seem to get enough of each other.
Drake doesn’t hug me. I don’t kiss him. We don’t hold hands as he follows me toward the front door.
Daniel greets me. He doesn’t wear a uniform per se but always a pair of dress slacks and either a button-down or sometimes a polo shirt. “Good evening, Ms. Norcross.”
I don’t correct him. I’ve asked him on more than one occasion to call me Brienne, and he won’t, so I let it go.
If Daniel is surprised to see Drake walking in, he doesn’t twitch a facial muscle. This is the earliest Drake has been here, so Daniel has not met him before.
“I can have your dinner laid out now, if you’d like,” he says and gives a glance toward Drake. “There is more than enough to feed your guest.”