Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I gulp. “What does your gut say?”
“My gut says to say screw it and keep playing. I only have two more years until my contract runs out. I can play safe and get out of there before I’m thirty-five. I’ll be fine.”
“Have you talked to your sister about this?”
“No. And you won’t either. Hear me?”
I bury my head in my hand.
My brain reels with this information—and an underlying concern that maybe I’m in the same boat. But either way, Brock is facing this decision, and I know what Blakely would say. It will kill her if she loses her only family member left. She’s had enough suffering. Enough pain.
“Walk away,” I say, my voice dead.
“It’s two more years—”
“But it could cost you fifty.” I stand, adrenaline building in my blood. “You can’t risk it, man. Think about it. Think about your health. Your sister. Ella. Fuck, think about me.”
He chuckles. “Of course, you would make this about you.”
“Well, yeah. You’re about the only person in this world I like. You can’t get all fucked up. Think about the bigger picture here.”
“I’m honored.” He sighs. “I’ve been an asshole to everyone—to you, to Blakely. Ella won’t talk to me. I feel like I’m losing everything in my life all at once, and I have a small opening here to try to catch it.”
“Good thing you can catch shit, then, isn’t it?”
“What do I do, Renn? Do I tell everyone this and scare the shit out of them? Do I ignore it? What happens if this is a sign of what’s to come? Would I even want to saddle Ella with that? Do I let her go? Do I walk away from my contract? What do I do with the rest of my life? I don’t fucking know, and I’m stressed out.”
The call goes quiet as we process the last few minutes.
For the first time since we got here, I wish I was home.
“We leave here tomorrow night. If you want to sit down and go over it, I’ll be there—post jet lag. Tell me when.”
“Thanks, Renn.”
“Of course.” I look at the night sky. “You don’t have to tell her, but please call your sister. She knows something is wrong and just needs to hear your voice.”
“Do me a favor. Don’t fuck this up with Blakely,” he says.
“Shut up. You’re not dying, asshole.”
He laughs. “No, I’m not. But I can hear something in your voice that tells me that things between you are probably exactly what I fear.”
“Hot?”
“Fuck off.”
I laugh, grateful for the change in tone of the conversation.
“The two of you have always had this … thing,” he says. “If you’re in the same room, you find one another. No one else exists. You laugh at the same shit. You have this push and pull that’s amusing—or it would be if she wasn’t my baby sister and you weren’t you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You know what I mean.” He sucks in a breath. “I’ve seen this coming for a long time, and I’ve tried to keep it from happening. I should’ve known it was a pointless attempt.”
I force a swallow. “What are you saying, Brock?”
“I’m saying that you just told me that she needs me to call her. And that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you give a shit about what anyone else needs.” He laughs softly. “Just take care of her and don’t hurt her. I trust that you will do what’s best for her.”
“We’re doing this for ninety days. That’s it.”
“Whatever you’re telling yourself. I’ll see you when you get home.”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll see you then.”
“Bye.”
“Goodbye.”
I end the call but keep the phone in my hand.
I can’t go back to bed now because I’ll toss and turn all night. I can’t talk to Blakely about it. And I sure as hell can’t sit here with my thoughts and wind up looking at online medical sites. I’ll be convinced Brock is dead.
My fingers scroll through my contacts until I find Bianca’s name. Ignoring the plethora of unread messages, I open her chat box.
Me: Talk to me.
Bianca: Hi to you, too. How is married life?
Me: Going exceptionally well, as a matter of fact. I kind of like it.
Bianca: That’s scary.
I laugh.
Me: How are things with your neighbor? Is he still banging all night?
Bianca: No comment.
Me: COMMENT.
Bianca.
Me: Oh. I see.
Bianca: It’s going exceptionally well, as a matter of fact. I really like it.
Me: I assume you didn’t call the police on him.
Bianca:
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, typing furiously.
Me: Tell me you didn’t.
Bianca: How did I know he was just a dom? I was trying to do a public service.
Me: Okay, now I know you’re kidding.
Bianca: I AM NOT KIDDING.
Me: There is no way you’re any man’s sub.
Bianca: Oh, big brother. The things I can’t tell you. Now, let’s transition out of this uncomfortable conversation and focus on other lighter things … like Mom is throwing you a party when you get back. I’m supposed to find out when you’re returning.