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)
“I was just leaving. Skylar.” I point at him. “You have a week.” With that, I turn and push past the security guard, who seems to be starstruck once he realized who I was. I nod at him, offering him a smile, and make my way back out to my truck.
I immediately fire off a text to my agent, telling him what he should expect to see in a week’s time before hitting Joey’s contact. The call rings through the speakers as I pull out onto the lot.
“Brock?”
“Hey, Sunshine.” Just hearing her voice makes me smile.
“Where are you?”
“I had some errands to run.”
“What kind of errands?”
“The kind that you probably aren’t going to like,” I confess.
She sighs. “Tell me.”
“I went to see your father.”
“I told you I wanted to be there.”
“I know, but this was something that I needed to do.”
“How did it go?” I go on to tell her about my visit with her dad.
“He was quiet when I left.”
“Oh, Brock.” She sniffs. “I-I don’t know what to say. Other than Caleb, I’ve never had this kind of love and support. ‘I love you’ just doesn’t seem strong enough for how I feel about you.”
“I know, baby. I know,” I assure her.
“So, that took all this time?” she asks, changing the subject.
“No. I’m in Springfield.”
“What are you doing in—No. Please tell me you didn’t.”
“You made Caleb promise, but not me,” I remind her.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. I just made it known that if I ever found out about him touching a woman inappropriately, I’d ruin him and his company.”
“Brock! He could call the press or worse, the cops.”
“Oh, security showed up. He sent them away. And you should be getting a check for six months of severance pay and letters of recommendation from all the partners. I know you don’t need either, but it was the principle. He wronged you, and this is a small way of helping to make it right. Granted, nothing will make him putting his hands on you or threatening you okay, but this at least makes him uncomfortable. He’s going to have to go to accounting for the check and his partners for the letters. He’s going to have to be the one to explain why he’s doing what he’s doing. I gave him a week.”
There’s silence on the other end, and I’m afraid I might have fucked up. I’m going to have to do some major groveling when I get home. However, when her laughter rings through the speakers, I realize I was wrong.
“I wish I could have seen his face,” she confesses.
“Damn, I should have taken a picture for you,” I joke.
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too. I should be home in a couple of hours.”
“Brock?”
“Yeah, Sunshine?”
“Tell me a story.”
I don’t have to glance in the rearview mirror to know that I’m grinning. Joey is everything I never knew I wanted or needed.
“Once upon a time, there was a man who fell madly in love with a beautiful woman. Loving her changed him. Her love made him want to be a better man. The love they shared had him thinking about weddings, and babies, and a house full of love, laughter, and sunshine.”
EPILOGUE JOEY
Joey
I’ve never experienced a more electric energy in my entire life. The entire stadium is on their feet, screaming and cheering for their team. The score is tied at seventeen with two minutes to go in the fourth. The winner of this matchup wins a trip to Miami, to the biggest game of the year.
Championship game.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my entire life. I’m on my feet, standing alongside legions of Ramblers fans, my hands gripping those of my friends around me. Taylor is on one side, while Mia, my coworker and friend, is on the other. Sure, we could have watched from a suite upstairs, but this is where I want to be.
This is where I want to watch the game.
I tighten my hold on my friends’ hands and hold my breath. The line gets set. The quarterback takes his position. He calls out the play, glances from his left to his right. There’s a moment I swear I can see his eyes when they connect with Brock’s. Brock gives him a slight nod, and I know it’s coming.
My eyes widen as the ball is hiked. Brock takes off, running ten yards out before cutting hard to the left. He holds out his hands, the ball thrown his way. He reaches and has to adjust his pace to catch it, the ball thrown almost out of his grasp. But Brock has it, his big hands securing the football at the five-yard line.
I watch as a defender comes from out of nowhere, driving his shoulder and helmet into Brock’s side and knocking him off his feet. The momentum of the hit carries him toward the goal line, and all I can do is watch in horror as he spins through the air, landing hard on his side.