Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
I nodded. I could do that.
Be here. On call.
I could more than do that.
• • •
Trent called. Owen called. Grant called. I talked to Sophia and Hadley as well.
I asked Stan at one point if I could get Trent a pass to come in and stay with me. So two hours into me being here, Trent came to sit next to me.
We didn’t talk much.
I texted with Reese a few times, checking on him, but I knew he needed to focus.
The afternoon stretched into evening, and someone from their team came to get me. Reese had requested to see me an hour before going onto the court.
Trent had gone up to the box by then. He said his friend and my airplane buddy Dwayne was there, and he didn’t know anything about what had happened. Someone had taken a picture of Reese kissing me the night before, but my face wasn’t visible, and in light of Roman’s death, Stan got that story killed right away. I hadn’t even known about it until Trent mentioned seeing it in an early alert, then nothing after that.
I was taken to a room. People were everywhere, lining the hallway, and someone mentioned the locker room wasn’t too far away.
Stan came in minutes later and motioned to the door. “Reese just wants a minute with you. He’ll be coming shortly, but then to fill you in on everything, he’ll return to the locker room, and after that, they’ll go out to play the game.”
“Trent said there was a picture of us?”
Stan grimaced, tugging at his collar. “Yeah. I bought the story and killed it. People are already curious about you. It’s been pushed off because of Roman’s death, but word’s spreading. Two bloggers are claiming they have video of you two conversing at the Coyotes game. Is that true?”
I knew who he was talking about, and unease began to trickle in. “Not talking or anything. Reese was going off the court. I held my phone up and he nodded. That was it. Those guys followed me after that, but I lost ’em and left the game with my friends.”
“And these friends? If they’re tracked down, what are they going to say?”
“Nothing.” I felt slapped by his accusation, but the jaded look in his eyes was just resignation.
“Everyone has a price.”
“Not these guys.” My head rose higher. “Not me either.”
He stared at me, hard, unblinking, and then a wall slid away. He cringed. “I, uh, I have to apologize for something.”
More unease. Alarms began to sound.
“That last game you were at, in Washington, that whole mess was because of me.”
Say what?
I lowered my head, my eyes still on him. “Repeat that.”
He studied me a moment. “Marie didn’t ditch you. She was so intoxicated that I switched her ticket. I stayed in the box, and she left twenty minutes later. She thought you’d ditched her until she saw how irate Reese was about it all.” A vein stuck out from his neck. He was so stiff. “And Reese didn’t forget his phone. I purposely took it out of his bag and put it on the counter, after I knew he wouldn’t return to the house.”
My teeth were grinding. I was seeing pink. Not red, just pink for now.
“Why?”
“I wanted to see how you would respond.”
This fucker. “And did I pass?”
He flinched, a flash of regret passing over him before his features turned back to stone. “It was…eye opening. If you’d wanted Reese for his money or fame, you would’ve stayed at the stadium. I apologize for the damage I inflicted. I didn’t realize how deeply he cared for you. I do now, and I can tell you I will never do anything to get between you. I am four years older than Reese. In many ways, I feel like I’m his older brother. Taking care of him has always been my job, and knowing how much he cares for you, you are now a part of that world. Now…” He drew upright, adjusting his suit jacket and smoothing out his sleeves. “Because I am not actually a big talker, this is probably the longest conversation you’ll have with me, but I am in your corner. That will never change.”
He started for the door.
“And if I hurt him? What then?” I called, stopping him.
He didn’t even look at me, just reached for the handle and opened the door. “You won’t. I can tell you love him too.”
Then he was gone, and I wanted to curse at the door.
What a fuckhead, who I kinda liked now.
There’s a stillness in the air after someone’s died. You feel it, knowing something had changed drastically, but yet the world around you keeps moving forward because while you know it, they don’t. It’s an odd dichotomy, and standing in that room, waiting for Reese to come in, I noticed everything.