Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
“No. Go in now. You’re up first.”
“Why?” There had never been this urgency before. And also, we lost. The winning team went first.
He turned, shrugging. “Just go. I don’t know. I’m only told what I’m told. Get it done, and then you can take off.”
I still had my helmet in hand, but knowing Lawson, he’d yell at me if I even tried to put it down, so I headed out with it still with me.
Just as I left the locker room, Foreman, one of our running backs, was checking his phone. He looked up at me and froze. His eyes bulged out. “Shit!”
I gave him a look but kept moving. I’d decipher that later.
When I got to the press room, a spokesperson was at the microphone but waved me over when he spotted me. “Come in.”
The room fell eerily quiet as I approached and took my seat. I was still in full uniform. Sweaty as fuck. As the spokesman stepped down, he gestured to my helmet. “Would you like me to hold that?”
“No.” That was only for me or the people whose job it was to handle our equipment. I scowled at him, putting the helmet on the table.
A guy shouted from the back, “Brett, can you take that down? We can’t see you.”
Another reporter smirked. “Yeah, Brett. They want to see your pretty face.”
I mean-eyed the second guy and glared at the first before I put the helmet at my feet.
Some laughter rippled through the crowd before a tiny beat of silence. I wasn’t saying shit until an actual question was asked
“How’d you feel about the game, Brett?”
I leaned in and shrugged, then gave a polite response. “We obviously didn’t do our best, but we put ourselves in that place as a team.” Other players would go further and remark on how we’d learn from our mistakes and make the appropriate corrections for the next game. I stuck with the first reaction.
“Do you think your relationship with Willow Harm had anything to do with how you played today?”
I froze, my insides snapping to attention.
What the hell?
I searched for who’d asked the question, but the reporters themselves were looking around. A bunch of phone alerts went off.
A buzz rose—shock, then hunger. I saw it on their faces, felt it in the air.
Anger rose in me, swift and fierce, but I was not going to lose my control.
I needed to repeat it three more times before I could focus on the next question.
A woman on the right side of the room asked, “Are you worried about Willow in light of the revelations that the Midwest Butcher is back?”
What. The. Fuck?
I sat back, scowling at the entire room.
The questions came in a flurry after that.
“Are you confirming you’re in a relationship with Willow Harm, the Midwest Butcher’s only survivor?”
“How long have you been seeing each other?”
“Did this start after the tripping incident?”
“Is Willow in danger?”
“Does this mean Willow helped put an innocent man in prison? Is the Midwest Butcher not Cameron Fowler? Has he actually been free?”
“Has he been murdering this whole time?”
“Why did he start up again?”
“Have you talked to law enforcement?”
“Are you worried for your safety?”
“How do you think this is going to affect the Kings?”
Kim shoved inside the door, her face pale. Her eyes were wide, panicked, but as she hurried to the platform, I shoved my chair back. We bypassed each other. Grabbing my helmet, I left and I could hear her speaking into the microphone before the door shut behind me, “No more questions will be answered. We’ll have a statement within the hour—”
What the fuck?
What the fuck?
“Brett!” someone hollered after me.
I sent whoever that was a death look. A few others had started to follow me, but they took one look at me and scurried backwards.
I stormed farther down the hallway.
My blood was pumping and it was vicious.
It was out. Billie and I were out. That wasn’t supposed to happen. We’d been discreet except for the first couple public outings, only once on purpose and the other two by accident.
Kim came running down the hall after me, the sides of her blazer flapping. “Brett! I didn’t know.”
I stormed past her, ignoring the looks from the team’s staff, and went into the locker room. A lot of the guys were still there, glued to their phones, but at seeing me, they snapped to attention. Most took off.
“Brett, I swear I didn’t know,” Kim called from behind me. “I never would’ve sent you in there if I had.”
I rounded on her. “You think I give a shit about you right now? This shit’s out. That was just a taste of what Billie’s gone through, and it’s only going to get worse. I ain’t giving you two fucking seconds of my attention right now, Kim.”
She stopped in front of me, her chest heaving, her hair coming loose from her bun. “I—”