Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Everyone in the room either nodded or muttered their agreement. I was still lost in my own thoughts about what Keegan had said. He thought I was disabled? And unstable?
“Lars, you are a very important member of the Mavericks family,” Mitch said. “I’m deeply sorry Keegan chose to say these things, and you will always have our full support. If legal action is viable, you bet your ass we’ll be pursuing it. Don’t let this get you down, okay?”
“Yes,” I said. “Okay.”
Mitch, Gloria, and Coach Gizzard talked some more about what would be included in the team’s official statement before we were all dismissed. Wes clapped a hand on my shoulder as we left the room and I tried to relax.
I tried, but I couldn’t. I had a giant tangle of emotions inside that I couldn’t unpack right now. Because I’d heard what everyone said about Keegan’s accusations being bullshit, but something just wasn’t sitting right with me.
If the things Keegan had said about Wes, Kon, and me were all untrue, why had Mitch only apologized to me?
Chapter Thirteen
Sheridan
* * *
Even before I’d gotten involved with Lars, my morning routine usually included a cup of tea, oatmeal or a couple of eggs, and meditation to start my day. On days I didn’t go into the office, I’d follow it up with yoga or stretching, and have a second cup of tea while I caught up on news and media releases online. Since I had season tickets, I always checked the sports pages to see how the Mavericks had done the night before and if any of the guys were in the news. Especially now that I knew many of them.
I almost missed the interview with Keegan Miller but my gut clenched painfully as I read his nasty commentary on his old team. Obviously, I didn’t know Wes or Kon as intimately as I knew Lars, but I couldn’t believe the things he said about them either. And Lars was the furthest thing from dangerous. He was huge and strong and a beast of a man, but kind and gentle. Awkward, sometimes unpredictable, but I wasn’t even a little bit afraid of him and as a victim of abuse, I’d recognize it anywhere.
I’d never seen his temper in any way, shape, or form, and while the autism comment might have a twinge of truth to it, it seemed irresponsible for someone with no medical training to say something like that publicly.
It also had to be hurtful as hell.
Could Lars be autistic? I truly had no idea but even if he was, it was no one else’s business and certainly not Keegan Miller’s. I was furious on Lars’s behalf and immediately called him. He was at practice, but I wanted him to know I was here for him.
“Hey, handsome, it’s Sheridan. I saw that awful article and just want you to know Keegan Miller can fuck right off. I don’t know who he thinks he is, but I hope the Mavericks’ PR people have something to say about it. Believe me, if anyone knows what it’s like for the press to print hurtful things about you, it’s me. Anyway, I’m working from home today so I’m here anytime if you want to talk. Okay, bye.”
I lost myself in work and the next time I looked up from my computer, my neck was stiff, I was starving, and the clock read six thirty. We’d had a mishap with a large shipment of fabric today, so I’d been putting out fires all afternoon. I had staff who normally handled these things, but a shipment this large represented tens of thousands of dollars, and I’d been on the phone making sure we got to the bottom of it.
I stood up and stretched, my back screaming in protest from sitting for so long. I slowly bent over and let my arms fall freely in front of me. It was a good, gentle way to stretch out, and I held the pose for ten seconds before slowly lifting up. I should have gone for a walk this afternoon, but it was dark and cold now, so it was safer to stay home. Maybe tomorrow I’d walk to the office. It was exactly one point one miles from my apartment, and my physical therapist had said it was time for me to push myself more. The harder I pushed, as long as I did it properly, the quicker I’d get those stupid spasms to stop and my back to fully heal.
Opening my freezer, I perused the frozen meals I had delivered twice a month and nothing appealed to me. They were low-fat, low-carb, high-protein meals made specifically for both my health and dietary needs, but spaghetti squash lasagna just wasn’t cutting it for me tonight. Mostly, I wanted ice cream and maybe a big slice of chocolate cake.