Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“You know what? You’re right. There’s a lot of shit I probably should have said to her before now.”
“I’m sure she knows how you feel, but getting the words out might help both of you.”
“Thanks, babe.”
“I hope it turns out okay.”
“Me too.”
Normally, I would take half a pill before getting on a short flight. Instead, I took a full one. Aside from my regular preflight jitters, I was anxious to get back home, wanting to be there to support Brody if he needed me. Unfortunately, I’d soon find out, that I wasn’t the only one ready to console him.
Lust. There’s a reason that it’s just a scramble of the letters that spell slut.
I was literally sitting on my beloved grandmother’s deathbed, and yet my heartbeat accelerated the minute Brody walked back into the room. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a fitted thermal, he turned the identity-shielding bill of his cap backward, and I had to force my gaping mouth closed. With his backward baseball cap and hair sticking out all over, he looked just like the jock I fell for.
“Anything?”
I shook my head. “They only brought her back a few minutes ago. There was a backup in CAT scan. The nurse said results would be backed up, too.”
He dug something from his pocket and extended his hand palm up, holding a swipe card of some kind. “Your turn.”
My forehead creased.
“My place is only four blocks away. You said you live all the way uptown. I picked up a T-shirt and those yoga pants you women wear in the hotel gift shop and left them in the bathroom for you, in case you want to change.”
“The hotel gift shop?”
“I live at the Regency Hotel.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. During the season. I stay in the cabin the rest of the year.”
“The cabin? You still have the cabin? Is it finished?”
He smiled. “I’m still working on it. But it’s getting there.”
The cabin upstate was the first major purchase Brody had made when he turned pro. The land was beautiful, but the place was a disaster. He’d wanted to rebuild it all himself. I’d only visited it once, but the memories had stayed with me. It was one of the last good weeks I’d had before I spiraled out of control this last time. We’d christened every room the week we were up there. One memory, in particular, replayed in my mind often. We had just made love in front of the fireplace that looked out at the lake, and we talked about spending the offseason there together, fixing the place up. He had told me he was going to build another fireplace in the bedroom because he loved the way my eyes looked in the fire’s glow. Brody and I had a lot of memories, but that one, that time in front of the fireplace, I remember feeling utterly and completely loved.
“Go.” He snapped me back to the present. “We’re probably going to be here again tonight. Penthouse two.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I did. Go. I got it here for a while. Besides. Can’t have you smelling up the place, can we? That’s my job.”
I’d never been in a penthouse before. But it basically looked like what I expected it to look like. Large, open, clean and fancy. What it didn’t look like was Brody’s home. Some binders with the Steel’s logo rested on the end table in the living room. The dining room table held some mail and a folded jersey. But little else screamed that someone lived there for four months of the year.
I wandered into the master bedroom. The spacious walk-in closet was filled with clothes and shoes. One whole side was practice jerseys, football pants, sweatshirts and Under Armor. There had to be at least twenty pairs of sneakers and cleats lined up on that side of the closet. I opened a few of the built-in drawers—everything was folded neat and tidy. Brody had always been more of a shove it in a drawer and make it fit kind of guy. Someone else was definitely putting away his laundry. The absence of any women’s clothing in the closet made me think that someone was a maid, rather than his girlfriend.
Behind a dividing wall was a large master bath with a double sink and an enormous tiled shower. No fancy shampoos and conditioners, no perfumes or makeup. No sign of a woman spending frequent nights here. Although there were enough water jets and space in that shower to have a small party. It made me wonder if Brody entertained often.
As I headed out of the master suite, I couldn’t help myself. I was already overstepping boundaries by snooping, might as well jump in with both feet. I slid open the bedside table. Inside was a set of Beats headphones, an iPod, some business cards and a stack of folded papers. I moved some of the papers to the side, revealing a half-empty box of condoms and an almost empty bottle of lube. Well, that answered that question. I guess he did entertain often.