Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
“How else would they know how to detect?”
“What are the classes? How to take a statement? Tools of observation?”
“I’d need the one about how to manage your partner and not kill him in the first twenty-four hours.”
“Why are you here again?” I ask Graham.
“You sounded miserable when I called. I can’t have my favorite quarterback depressed.”
“And you were bored,” I point out.
Graham shrugs. “Luna took her mom out for dinner and said that if I came along, all her mom would do was make passes at me, which would embarrass all of us.”
“Is she wrong?”
“No, that’s why I’m sitting in this car with you watching people come out of a restaurant which was only given two stars by My Favorite Feeds.”
“Speaking of My Favorite—”
“Yes, I know Brooks slept with her and that now he doesn’t know what to do because he can make incredible things out of food but people confuse him.”
“Can’t blame him. Women are confusing.”
“I thought you were in the doghouse because you were mean to Frankie. How is that confusing?”
“I wasn’t mean to her.” I stare moodily out the window, willing Frankie to appear. My wishing hasn’t netted me anything for the past two hours. The door remains shut. “I was drugged up and frustrated.”
Plus, she rejected me. Who is going to take that well? I sobered up enough to realize I’d been an asshole. That and a call with my mom, who tore into me for acting like I was the only one with hardships. I flushed my meds down the toilet, stoppered the bottle of Scotch, and cleaned up the mess in my apartment. But the mess I made of my personal life also needs to be fixed. “Okay, I was mean to her, but that’s why I’m here. To apologize. To win her back.” I cast a glance into the back seat, where I have a huge bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates.
“I think you should have bought her a car. I’m my nephew’s favorite uncle.” Graham stretches his arms out.
“You’re his only uncle, and he’s one and a half. He smiles at dogs with more energy than he greets you.”
“I see why Frankie left you.”
“Fuck y—oh shit, she’s coming out.” I duck down and then let out a moan of pain as the motion jostles my shoulder.
“Why are we hiding? I thought you were here to apologize.”
“Right.” I sit up and reach behind me with my good arm for the flowers. Graham blocks my move.
“Are you trying to injure your other shoulder?” He grabs everything and shoves it in my arms. “Go. Do the thing. Win the girl. Don’t embarrass me, or Luna will probably be mad at me.”
“Why?”
“Because women solidarity or something like that. Just go or I’ll have to sleep on the couch tonight.” Graham practically shoves me out of the car.
I stumble and then right myself. Jasper and Frankie are shaking hands. I hesitate, wondering if I should go up now or wait, but explaining the situation to Jasper would likely embarrass Frankie, so I hang back, walking up the unlit sidewalk until I’m close enough but still out of sight. Frankie waits until the crosswalk light turns green and then hurries across the pavement. The yellow streetlights fall on her shoulders, and a glint catches my eye. She’s still wearing my ring.
Emboldened by this, I start toward her. My footsteps on the pavement reach her ears, and her eyes meet mine. She pauses midstep.
“Best I could do this late at night.” I offer her the flowers and chocolate. “Did you close your deal?”
She nods, taking the gifts from me. This seems like a good sign.
“Get on your knees,” shouts a couple passing by on the sidewalk.
“Already did,” I yell back.
“Holy shit, is that Kaden Gunner?” A crowd starts to form.
Frankie starts to shake her head. Panic flares in my chest. I should have waited for her in the car, maybe at home. A lot of the time I forget I’m famous. That what I do off the field matters to people.
“I think I fucked up,” I say in a low tone.
“When?” There’s a challenge in her tone.
A warning bell goes off in my head, and the play in front of me starts to materialize. When you’re under pressure, you can either throw it out of bounds or try to run for a gain. The latter option is riskier with greater potential for error, and, as my shoulder will attest, for injury. But the reason I’ve been so successful as a quarterback is because I do take risks. I don’t settle for the safe play hoping that the next time will be better because next time might not come. You have to play to win every down, every minute.
I drop to my knees and take Frankie’s free hand between mine. I ignore the shouts and catcalls of the crowd behind me that is getting larger every moment. Now’s the time to take a risk.