Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 48306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“Think it over, Camden. Take a week and let us—”
“I’m in.”
I don’t need a week. I don’t need a second.
“Whatever you need,” I growl. “I’m in.”
I can hear Mr. Fannetti smile. “Well that’s fantastic news, Camden. Really fantastic news! Listen, we’ll be in touch in the next few weeks with details, but I’ll let the board know that you’re interested. Have a good day, Camden.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fannetti,” I say quietly, my heart racing. “Really.”
“You’re very welcome, Camden. We’ll speak soon.”
The line goes dead, and I just stare at the phone in disbelief.
I’m going to swim again. Not only that, I’m going to swim on fucking Team USA. Maybe. Possibly. I mean, I’m still in great shape, and I’ve been swimming as if I’m still training. But I’m twenty-eight, and I know damn well the guys I’ll be “competing with” for that spot are going to be young, hungry, and at their fucking peaks.
I grin, shaking my head as I stagger to my feet.
I need air.
I head out through the guys locker room and out into the main hall, ducking down that and out a side door into the sunshine. My heart races, and there’s a giant grin on my face as I start to text the one person in this world I want to tell about this.
Waverly, of course.
But just then, halfway through my fingers typing out the text, my phone lights up with another call, from another unknown number.
“Hello?”
There’s a second before a guy’s voice comes through the line.
“Oh, uh, maybe I got the wrong number.”
“Okay.”
I roll my eyes, and I’m about to hang up, when the guy speaks again.
“I’m actually looking for Gina?”
Everything freezes. Everything goes still, and cold.
“Hey, you, uh, you there, sir?”
I nod slowly, numb. “What—what do you want.”
“Oh!” Suddenly his voice changes into this very salesman sounding tone. “Well, I just wanted to ask her if she was still happy with her Nissan? We’re having a major trade-in event, and I think it’s time we get Gina in a brand new—”
I hang up, my hands shaking and my pulse roaring like a fucking hurricane in my ears as I just start walking. I can barely see; I can barely think. But somehow, I make it to my car. I fumble with the keys, half falling into the SUV before I start the engine, and I drive.
And I just keep driving as the sound of smashing glass and wrenching metal and broken bones and blonde hair disappearing over guardrails screams through my head.
14
Waverly
His phone keeps ringing until it goes to voicemail. For the tenth time.
Something’s wrong. Something is definitely very, very wrong.
Practice being canceled without any real notice was odd enough. Him not responding to my text asking what was going on was even odder. But him not answering at all is just…
I shiver, and I’m scared as I press down on the gas, heading for his house as the fall afternoon light starts to fade. My mom’s given me permission to use my car again, but I know I’m pushing it with still being grounded. She knows about practice being canceled, being the Vice Principle and all, but I told her I’d be doing weight training instead.
But here I am, roaring down the backroads of Southworth to Camden’s house by the river.
It’s just about dark when I pull into his driveway and turn off the engine. The front door is unlocked, and so I just step in, closing it quietly behind me.
“Camden?”
The house is dark and silent. I bite my lip as I step into the big living room. I move through the house until I get to the kitchen, and that’s where I find him.
He’s sitting on one of the tall-backed barstools at the kitchen island, one hand stroking his chin as he just stares at full bottle of what must be alcohol sitting in front of him.
“Camden?”
He startles when he hears my voice, half turning.
“Waverly?”
“What are you doing?”
He blinks, shaking his head as he stands from the chair, his fingers raking his jaw.
“Sorry,” he says quietly. “I just…” He shakes his head.
“Is everything okay? You didn’t pick up when I called.”
He frowns. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Think I left my phone in the car or something.”
“Camden,” I step towards him, my brow worried. “Look, I didn’t mean to interrupt any—”
“No, it’s…” he smiles wryly. “It’s fine.” He sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he looks away out through the kitchen windows.
“Hey,” I say softly, moving closer. “You can talk to me, you know.”
His jaw tightens, he takes a deep, slow breath, and slowly, he turns to me.
“I’ve been sober for three years, Waverly.”
My brows go up. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Look, I—” he frowns before he beckons me with a nod of his chin. I move towards him through the dark kitchen, and he takes my hands as we both slide into the tall bar chairs against the counter.