Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
I settle onto the bed in my hotel, grab my phone, and scroll over to my podcast app. Gage is in the room down the hall, but he’s putting Eliza to bed, so I don’t want to bug them. I settle in for an evening with Jon King, AKA King of the Bad Dates bits. Love his stories about terrible evenings out.
As I listen to his opening, I place an order for a sweet potato and brown rice bowl from a nearby café. Ten minutes later, I’ve laughed a few times thanks to King, and that feels pretty good. Then, there’s a knock on my door. I wait to see if the person will announce themselves.
“Dude, open up. It’s your big brother,” Gage calls out.
“And your favorite person in the whole world!” Eliza shouts happily.
I flew them down here with me and paid for their room too, so they could watch the All-Star Game. I pop out of bed and head over to the door, swinging it open for them.
My brother looks me up and down, his green eyes quizzical. “I thought you were going to the agency dinner?”
“Nah. Decided to get delivery instead.”
Eliza parks her hands on her hips. “And you didn’t invite us? You are in trouble. We came down here to see you in the All-Star Game and you could have had pizza with us.”
“I’m a bad uncle, especially since I ordered sweet potatoes,” I say.
“Yuck.”
“They’re healthy and good for athletes,” I point out.
“Okay! I want some then,” she says.
“And I want you to go to sleep,” Gage chimes in, exhausted. But hotels are like caffeine for kids.
I scoop her in my arms and lift her into a piggyback.
“Be careful, Uncle Zane. You better not get injured before your big game,” she warns even as she clambers onto my shoulders, then lifts her hands to touch the ceiling.
“Every game’s a big game, slugger,” I say, then set her down on the edge of the bed.
Like all kids in a hotel, she gravitates toward the remote on the mattress, clicks on the TV, and scrolls to cartoons, staring from the end of the bed.
My brother flops down on the couch, yawning and arching a knowing, big-brother brow. “Is there maybe another reason you’re not going to the agency dinner?”
Whoa. He’s a smarty-pants. But my bluff game is still tight. “Nope,” I say as lightly as possible, like it’s no big deal.
He snorts. “I call horse patootie,” he says.
I laugh at the kid-friendly euphemism, then shake my head. Deny, deny, deny.
“Oh, come on,” he says with a doubtful smirk. “You told me you fell for your agent. You think I didn’t figure out that’s why you’re not at the party tonight?”
“Why did I tell you that?” I grumble.
“Because it was dead obvious?”
I heave a sigh, then settle next to him on the couch as Eliza’s lashes begin to flutter. “Look. I’m doing my best to be chill with working with him, and I’m doing a fine job. No need to push it by going to a party.”
“Fair enough. Just wanted to make sure you were being honest about it.”
“I am.” I don’t need to tell Gage the full truth—I don’t trust myself to see Maddox tonight. One look and I’ll stupidly blurt out all my messy feelings. I’m still too raw, too vulnerable. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I do—did. The way I did for him. “My food should be here soon. You want to stay in and watch a movie with me when she crashes?” I gesture to Eliza. Her head is bobbing as her eyes start to fall closed.
Gage hums. “If that’s what you really want to do.”
“It really is.”
He scoffs in my direction and rolls his eyes. “If you say so.”
I tilt my head. “Well, what do you think I really want to do?”
Without hesitation, he answers me. “You want to go. You like agency parties, Zane. Dinner, drinks, the whole chit chat after. You enjoy being in the spotlight. And you’ve earned it—it’s one of the perks of being a major league ballplayer. And I think if this guy is your agent, for better or for worse, it’s good to be able to deal with him.”
My brother is too wise. But I’m a wily one when I need to be. “Wrong. I’m perfectly content right here with you and Eliza.”
“Perfectly content,” he imitates me. “That’s real convincing.”
“Perfectly content,” I repeat, digging my heels in.
Gage sears me with a most brotherly stare. “Maybe aim a little higher than content?”
“Like what?” I toss back.
“How about, oh, I don’t know…happy?”
All my fight evaporates. I slump deeper onto the couch. “I don’t know what to do,” I mutter. Will seeing the guy I can’t have make me happy? Or simply remind me how sad I am?
Gage pats my shoulder affectionately. “Is this like when you couldn’t decide between Cinnamon Life cereal or eggs for breakfast when we were kids, and you asked me to pick?”