Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
I used to thrive off seeing those numbers climb, off posting a photo or video and watching it hit thousands of likes in seconds.
Now, it all felt like a numb annoyance I kept up with only because my agent, Giana Jones, used those numbers to land me sponsorships and licensing deals.
I slid my thumb across the screen.
Unknown: Hello, Kyle, this is Madelyn Hearst. If I’m going to be your real estate agent, we need to meet to discuss what you’re looking for. And I reserve the right to make my decision after that discussion.
I smirked, licking my lips before I fired back a reply.
Me: So hostile.
Madelyn: You wasted my time this morning, and I won’t put up with that if we’re going to work together.
A flash of her at seventeen hit me square in the stomach, the way she’d boss me around, only to have me fight her every inch of the way. I’d done it to rebel against my parents at first, but the more I pushed her buttons and she pushed back, the more I did it for me.
Me: Dinner tonight?
Madelyn: Tomorrow night. 7PM at Rains. Please fill out this questionnaire before then.
She sent a link through, and when I clicked it, I found two-dozen questions waiting for me. I scoffed and shook my head.
Me: I don’t have time to write you an essay.
Madelyn: Make time, or find another agent.
Me: There she is.
Madelyn: Don’t be late tomorrow. I’ll wait five minutes past 7 before I leave.
Tossing my phone in my gym bag, I slung the strap over my shoulder and climbed out of my car just as Braden pulled up in the lot a few parking spots down.
Where I had been anxious to start spending that signing bonus, Braden had his accumulating small interest in an investment fund. He still drove the same beat-up Camry he had in college, one I was surprised made the trip across the country to the West Coast.
“You do know that thing drastically impacts your score, right?” I said when he pulled his bag from the creaky trunk.
“My score?”
“Yeah. I’m a ten, obviously,” I said with a smirk. “And you’re a solid eight. But with that thing, a five, at best.”
“Fuck off, Robbins,” he said, but he grinned. I was thankful he was used to my antics, because not many people in my life put up with them.
I’d wanted it that way.
There was something comforting in building a shield, in pretending to be an asshole thirsty for attention. It kept most people away. It made them assume they knew all there was to know about you. It put you in the clown category, which meant when you had a shit day and wore it on your sleeve — no one noticed.
No one cared.
Add in the fact that I was pretty damn good at being an asshole, and it was the perfect defense for me.
But Braden was an exception. We’d roomed together at The Pit, and from the very first few nights, I knew he’d seen right through my bullshit. I’d hated it at first, and I was a first-class asshole to him to try to get him to bug the fuck off.
Lucky for me, he wasn’t deterred.
Now, he was my best friend, and we were about to play our first pro season together.
“Just promise me you’ll at least get a car made in this millennia before the season starts.”
“Hey! This is a 2010.”
I blinked at him. “And all the girls threw their bras, unable to control themselves.”
I said the words in a monotone voice that made Braden grab a sock from his bag and throw it at me. I flung it back at him before we made our way toward the field, each of us slipping on our headphones to warm up and get in the zone.
As I ran through my usual routine — high knees, burpees, stretching and the like — my mind drifted back to Madelyn James.
Hearst, I reminded myself.
My teeth ground together as I did. She was married. That was a fact that should have just been something I easily accepted. Instead, it made me see red, like she should have asked me for permission first — or at the very least, told me.
Then again, this was the girl who’d turned her back on me along with the rest of the town I grew up in, who’d abandoned me when I needed her most.
Madelyn Hearst was my babysitter — when I was fifteen.
I hadn’t needed a fucking babysitter, but my parents didn’t trust me. Not that I could blame them, since I threw a party the one weekend they did trust me. I was fourteen at the time, new to high school and desperate to make friends. And since I’d watched my parents drink like it was their job since I was born, I thought that was the way to do it.