Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“I…” She looked down at herself, flushing. Her hands splayed over her thighs and she laughed a little. “Yeah. Maybe. I usually keep a bag in my car, but…” She shivered. Her forehead wrinkled, determined now. “Give me a little time. Or my hotel isn’t far—”
“You’re still at a hotel?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m not moving here. I’m just here for the job.”
“Yeah, but won’t that be the entire season? You could do a nine-month lease somewhere. Your job is to help us get to the playoffs, right? That’ll take the whole season.”
“Well, yeah, but I mean, it’s fine. I think the team has some deal with the hotel.” She looked away, pondering something. “Uh, if you tell me what hospital, I can meet you there.”
I shook my head. “I’ll give you a ride to your hotel. I can wait in the lobby while you change, shower. Whatever you need. I’d—I’d rather…” I didn’t know what to say now because the truth was, I wanted to be in her presence. I didn’t want to go to the hospital by myself.
I’d never had this feeling, this desire to be around another human being except with Skylar.
I was a mess. That’s the only thing that made sense.
The trade. My niece’s overdose. The coma. Her waking up. I was just wrecked. But whatever was going to help me right now, I was going with it.
“I’ll give you a ride there and back. It’s no problem. We have time.”
“Okay then. Let me grab my bag.” She gave me a small grin, smoothing her hands over thighs again before disappearing down the hallway.
What the hell am I doing?
18
RAIN
What am I doing?
None of this made any sense. Tyler Griffin was downstairs in the lobby waiting for me.
I tried not to rush as I got ready, because when I did, I got worked up and forgot something, and I couldn’t let that happen. Cool, calm, and collected. That’s what I needed to be.
I was having a heart attack.
He wanted me to go to the hospital with him. Why? I should get out of it, make something up.
I didn’t.
I finished showering, dressed in black leggings, my little sneakers, and one of my favorite hoodies. I didn’t want my usual purse, so I put a few things in a crossbody bag. I’d never been one to spend an hour on my hair. Put in some product and it would dry just fine. I was lucky in that aspect. A little makeup, and I was ready to go.
My palms were sweaty as I rode down the elevator, questioning everything all over again.
His sister would be there. His niece. And he wanted me with him? I couldn’t make sense of it. God. I knew his sister had suffered a brain injury, and I knew how she’d gotten it. I didn’t think that was common knowledge. I should not be going with him. Anyone but me. And yet—I laughed, feeling a little unhinged as the elevator doors opened—here I was.
I stepped off and turned toward the lobby.
Tyler was there, surrounded by a bit of a crowd. He was signing autographs and chatting, but as soon as he saw me, he excused himself and pushed through the group to head my way. As soon as he was beyond them, he dropped the public smile and his face hardened. He nodded as he passed me. “Ready?” His knuckle grazed my arm, sending a tingle through me.
I croaked out, “Ready.”
If I was going with him, it should be in business mode, but I glanced at him sideways as we walked to the parking lot. I considered that, tried summoning the professional inside of me, and it wasn’t there. A part of me wilted, or melted, because that was gone. I wouldn’t be able to go back to being his sport psychologist. Then again, maybe I never had been, from the beginning? Our past had already condemned that, even though he hadn’t a clue about how intertwined our lives had been at one point. I could consult with him, be his equal, but even before accepting this job, I knew Tyler Griffin didn’t need any help from me. He already knew how to win. No. I was here in a totally different capacity, one a lot more private and personal, and my mind was yelling that I should stop and go back to my hotel room. But my body had no intention of turning around. We were going with him.
“Is this a rental?” I asked as we settled into his truck, my voice cracking a little.
“Mmmm? Oh, no. It’s mine. A buddy drove it out for me.”
“That was nice of him.”
He pulled out of the parking lot. “Yeah,” he said.
After that he was quiet, focused on merging onto the interstate.
He drove fast, but he was controlled. My brothers used to drive like bats out of hell. Daniel had been the worst, and if I cringed, he’d ridiculed me. It’d been hell anytime I needed a ride from him. I learned how to use the public bus system as soon as I could.