Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
He snorts. “Thanks. You gonna watch?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to. Our retreat ends at noon, and then I have to drive home, so I’ll be on the road while you play.”
“Just promise you’ll call if you need anything, all right? Me, Brock, whoever. We’ll be tied up all day with practices and meetings, but we’ll get back to you as soon as we can.”
“She can call me anytime for anything.” I hear Brock state adamantly in the background. It puts a smile on my face.
“I will. My phone doesn’t get the best reception here, just so you know.”
“Okay, sis, I’ll let you go. Kick ass in your team building shit,” he adds, bringing a smile to my face.
“You know it.”
“I love you, Sunshine.” His words come through the phone loud and clear, making me close my eyes and just feel the power of his statement.
“I love you too,” I whisper, even though he’s not holding the phone.
“All right, we need to get ready to head to the stadium.”
“Kick ass, Caleb.”
“Kick ass, Joey.”
Before I hang up, I hear Brock in the background, throwing a barrage of questions at my brother. I feel guilty I didn’t just talk to him, but I wasn’t lying when I said I needed time to think. And my mind is a jumbled mess right now.
Getting up, I run to the bathroom to survey the damage. Yeah, I look like I went two rounds with Mike Tyson. I place a cool rag over my eyes, praying it takes some of the puffiness away, and change my shirt into one that isn’t wrinkled and tear streaked. I throw on a thin layer of mascara and grab my stuff. Even if I don’t feel one-hundred-percent, I’m at this resort for a reason. Time to put my thoughts of Brock and the drama that seems to be surrounding me out of my mind.
I’m here for a reason.
Time to get to it.
I don’t know how I made it through the day, but I managed.
When I finally arrived for breakfast, thirty minutes after everyone else, the looks they gave me confirmed any question I may have had about them seeing the tabloids. After I ordered a cup of coffee and a toasted bagel, I told them the story was fabricated, most likely in an attempt to discredit me or Brock, and that I was focused on the reason we were all here.
Hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I pushed Brock and my mom out of my head and did what I came to do. Together, we hiked one of the Lake of the Ozarks’ most famous trails, fished, and completed exercises to encourage our group to work as a team. It was effective, honestly, and all things considered, I truly enjoyed my day.
Now, after sitting around the campfire out back and indulging on s’mores, I’m headed back to my room for the night with the promise to reunite with the team for breakfast in the morning.
The minute I step back inside my private space, the weight that’s been silently accompanying me all day starts to settle on my chest once more. The moment I woke and found a link to the latest tabloid story on my phone comes back to me with the force of a hammer to the chest. I don’t always get my texts and phone calls, but that particular piece of information had no problems getting through the technology barrier of our secluded location.
Figures.
I slip into the bathroom and take a quick shower, desperate to wash the smell of the outdoors off me. As much as I’ve enjoyed the day, I’m even more excited to grab my tablet and curl up on the bed.
I go ahead and plug in my phone, even though it was barely used today. I had it off while we went through our team-building activities, but now that I’m alone again, I should probably power it up and see what nightmares await.
Several messages do pop up, which is surprising. The first one I click on is from my brother.
Caleb: Hope you’re having a good day.
A smile crosses my lips, and I go ahead and fire off a reply, letting him know I did have a great day. Then, I click on the next message, the name that makes my heart skip a beat. I see a whole slew of messages, all received at some point throughout the day.
Brock: I love you.
Brock: I hate this. But I understand.
Brock: I get why you didn’t want to speak to me. I just want you to know I’m here.
The next one comes midafternoon, most likely during a break in his practice schedule.
Brock: Once upon a time, there was a man. He was sad and didn’t know what to do. See, he led a charmed life, getting paid to play the game he loved. However, with that love comes a price. He found that out the hard way when the media went after the woman he loves more than football. They set out to discredit him and make his love doubt the man he is. That tore him up inside. So much so, he vows to spend the rest of his life telling her how much she means to him. To be continued…