Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“I’m going to maybe suggest something radical here,” Dad says. “You could talk to them and see how they feel about being in a permanent thing. Hey, in that situation, who’s the bun and who’s the hot dog? Is there two hot dogs or two buns?”
“And I’m done talking about this with you two.”
Supportive parents are great, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not so sure boundary-crossing parents are the best.
“Your dad has a point though,” Mom adds. “About talking to them, not the hot dog thing.”
There’s a nagging feeling at the back of my mind that if it’s brought up, the answer will be a no and end our arrangement completely.
Which is worse: pining after them but still getting to see them once a year to explore our strong bond or not having them at all?
When I look at it like that, the answer is clear.
I can’t risk blowing it all up over a relationship that would be impossible to maintain while living in three different states.
When Brady and Kit come up to the room not long later, I end the call and do what the three of us do best. We get naked and pretend we’re not saying goodbye again.
Until tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY
brady
When I drag my ass into work on Monday, I’m physically satisfied but emotionally wrecked. Because my family showed up, I only got in a couple more hours with the guys, and then I had to say goodbye.
It feels like it’s all I ever do to them.
As an intern, I work in the bullpen, which is usually fun and upbeat because everyone is young and interning or is fresh out of school and working their way up, so we’re all in the same boat. There’s a camaraderie between us, business friendships, and these are the networking years, so it pays to be friendly to everyone. Especially me, the firm’s name partner’s honorary nephew.
But I can’t deal today.
“Rough weekend?” Thad asks from the cubical beside me.
“Something like that,” I murmur quietly.
Uncle Damon enters the bullpen area. “Brady, can I see you in my office for a second?”
Uh-oh.
“Uncle’s favorite employee,” Thad mocks.
“That was his ‘you’re in trouble’ tone, so don’t be too jealous.”
“Are you kidding? I’d hate to be in your shoes, man. Well, no, I take that back. I’d kill to be Brady Talon, son of Marcus Talon and Shane Miller, but I digress. Your current life—where you’re Damon King’s favorite bitch boy? No, thank you. I’m happy to fly under the radar.”
I hold my heart. “You make my life and my choices sound so glamorous.”
“You voluntarily gave up football to look after diva athletes. Your life choices are dubious at best.”
“Do you even want to be an agent?” I ask. “I understand the disappointment of not making it in baseball, but are you going to be able to rep the people who did without letting your bitterness show? All you did with Kelley was roll your eyes behind his back.”
“Dude, I just let baseball go. Give me at least a little time to accept it.”
Fair enough.
“Besides, Kelley doesn’t know how good he has it. He has my dream, but all he does is cry about it.”
That’s not true at all, and if Thad was in his position, with everything’s that’s being said online, he’d be frazzled too. But all he can see is someone with his dream job not appreciating it, when it’s actually the opposite. Kelley wants it so much that any risk to it is tearing him up inside.
“Brady, now,” Uncle Damon calls out loud enough for the entire bullpen to hear.
Well, fuck. I really am in trouble, but I have no idea what I’ve done. When I get to Uncle Damon’s office, he’s sitting behind his desk, resting back on his chair with his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
“What did I do wrong?” I ask, taking the chair opposite him.
Uncle Damon’s green eyes narrow. “You’re hiding something.”
“Huh?” I squeak.
He points. “That, right there. That little high-pitched break in your voice. You did it the other day at lunch when Peyton and Levi ratted you out for having a hookup in the house.”
I swallow hard and try to hide how much I hate he can read me—maybe even better than my own dads or brother can. “So because I wanted to save my hookup from the torture that would be meeting my extended family, I’m hiding something bigger?”
“Yep.”
“Explain your logic.”
“One: if he was truly a hookup, you wouldn’t have cared about embarrassment from us because you’d never see him again. Two: Levi said it was someone from college, only adding that this might be someone special to you. And three: call it gut instinct, but the only reason you wouldn’t tell us if you were in a serious relationship, aside from the embarrassment, is if there’s something problematic about it. Like if they were a client, but I’ve already scoured our client base for anyone current who went to Franklin U, and unless you’re fucking your brother—which I really hope you’re not—it’s something else.”