Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“You hear that, Ryder?” I ask with a malicious grin on my face. “That’s the sound of your leverage drying up and blowing away.”
“Fuck you,” he growls.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Ever,” Carter says. “Here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to walk out of this condo, and you will never come back here. You are going to stay the fuck away from Cami. And on those occasions when you happen to be in the same place as her, you will show her respect, and if you have to speak to her, it will be with respect. Am I clear?"
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Ryders sneers. “You’re a has-been. I’m the future of this organization—”
Carter steps closer to Ryder, his eyes narrow and hard, his jaw set. Carter glances at me and I give him a subtle shake of the head, silently encouraging him to keep his cool. If he loses his composure, it might ruin all the gains we’ve made today.
“Here’s what’s going to happen if you continue acting like a little bitch,” Carter says. “The video we just shot of you trying to blackmail Cami is going to find its way into the inbox of a few reporters I know. And you know how reporters just love a juicy story—”
“You wouldn’t dare—”
“I would dare. And in today’s environment, with all the attention being paid to matters like harassment, how do you think it’s going to look for you to be on video, forcing Cami to do something she doesn’t want?” Carter says. “I guarantee the team, regardless of the impact it would have on the organization, would cut you loose. And with that video making the rounds—something I will make sure it continues to do—how do you think that’s going to impact your job prospects? How many organizations do you think will overlook your little extortion play here? How many organizations do you think want someone like you on their roster?”
“You son of a bitch,” Ryder seethes.
“You brought this on yourself,” I say. “It’s time you grow up, Ryder.”
“Fuck you,” he hisses.
“What did I just say? You will address her with respect. And she’s right. It’s time for you to grow the fuck up,” Carter growls. “That’s how this is all going to work. Now, you can get the fuck out of here. Tomorrow, when we get to practice, you and I are going to find a way to work together as a team. You’re right. You are the future of the franchise. You have more talent than I had at your age. The difference is, I worked hard to be the best. And I want to help you mature and learn how to be a pro quarterback. I want to help you fulfill your potential, Ryder.”
Ryder stares at us blankly for a moment, looking totally shell-shocked. He looks like he doesn’t know what just hit him. Like a man who had absolute control over the situation watching it all slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He shakes his head like he can’t believe it. But he nods to himself and, without another word, turns and shuffles out of my condo. The door clicks closed behind him, and I hold my breath, half-expecting him to storm back in with rage and murder in his eyes. He doesn’t, though.
And when we’re alone again, I turn and throw myself into Carter’s arms. He scoops me up and spins around, both of us laughing together. I kiss him hard, putting every ounce of my emotion behind my lips, still in shock that he’d chosen me over football—the self-admitted first love of his life. I have never felt as cared for as I did when we sat with my dad, and I listened to Carter explain just how much he cared about me. My heart swelled to the point I thought it might burst and felt three sizes too big for my body.
With a flirty smile on my lips, I take him by the hand and start pulling him toward the bedroom. His laugh is a deep, rich rumble.
“Where are we going?” he asks.
“I’m going to put something sexy on for you.”
16
CARTER
Long after the game, the stadium is dark. Quiet. All the fans are gone and even the cleaning crews are done for the night. The air is still hazy and smells of gunpowder from the pyrotechnics and at the north end of the stadium, the scoreboard still shows the final score. I look at it then down at the ball in my hands and smile to myself.
“Forty-two to ten. Hell of a game, Carter,” he says. “Hell of a start to the season.”
Ryder steps up beside me and looks out across the field. We stand in silence for a few minutes, both of us just taking in the moment. If you had told me six months ago that I could stand beside him in the spirit of camaraderie, I would have told you that you were either an idiot, a blind optimist, or that you needed to be drug tested. Those first couple of weeks after the incident at Cami’s place were rough. Ryder was sullen and sulky. He was angry. And whenever he looked at me, I got the feeling he was thinking about murder, which only seemed fair since I was thinking about the same thing whenever I looked at him.