Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Brady,” she says with a sigh. “You can’t just quit. Here’s the thing, I understand that you’re ready to retire, and I don’t blame you. Your poor body has taken one hell of a beating over the years. But you’re under a contract, and you have sponsorships.”
“None of which say that I don’t get paid if I get injured and have to step back.”
“If it’s a career-ending injury, yes. But no doctor is going to say that this is career-ending. Am I wrong?”
I close my eyes, so fucking frustrated that I want to punch my fist through the wall.
“No. They wouldn’t sign off on that.”
“So, here’s what you’re going to do. Are you listening to me?”
“I’m here.”
“You’re going to take the next few weeks off, or however long you were told you need to heal, and then you’re going to finish out this season. If you win, you get one hell of a fucking bonus, but either way, you’re going to finish it. We’ll announce the day after championships that you’re retiring, and you’ll get the big party and induction into the hall of fame, and more sponsorships because brands eat that shit up. I’m setting you and your family up for the rest of your life here.”
“How do you know that I have a family?”
“Because the Brady I’ve worked with for more than a decade would not willingly quit. I figure there’s a woman involved here, and you’re the one who mentioned her in the first place. That concussion is fucking with you.”
I blow out a breath but don’t confirm or deny.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m your voice of reason here, honey. I don’t need the money. I want you to remember all the hard work you’ve put in, all the beatings you’ve taken, and how much you love getting on that bull, and then tell me that you want to quit.”
She’s right. I don’t ever want to quit, but seeing how torn up Abbi was broke my fucking heart.
I can’t love her as much as I do and continue to put her through this much worry. But I don’t want to quit.
I can’t quit.
“Okay,” I say at last. “I’ll finish it. The doctor said I need three weeks for the head and the shoulder to be okay enough to ride again.”
“Then you take those three weeks. I’ll put you on the injured list, and we’ll reevaluate you before you get back into the arena to make sure you’re healthy enough. Don’t rush it, Brady. I want you healthy for the rest of the season.”
“Thanks, Sandy. I’ll be in touch.”
“See that you are.”
She hangs up, and I toss the phone onto the bed before walking into the bathroom for that shower.
For the first time in my life, I hate my job.
My head is pounding again by the time we get to the townhouse. Millie was a stubborn ass who didn’t have one of the brothers go with her, and she got an earful when she arrived.
Not that she cared.
My sister is so fucking stubborn, she drives me nuts.
But I’m home, and that’s all that matters.
“I’ve got your bag,” Millie says as we climb out of her truck. “You go on inside.”
“This is one time that I’ll take you up on that.”
I open the front door and already feel better. Abbi’s head pops up from the kitchen, and then she’s sprinting toward me, but comes to an abrupt stop about two feet away.
“Why’d you stop?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Get over here.” My voice is deep, and my good arm is open wide as she steps gingerly into my embrace and lays her ear against my chest, listening to my heart as I hug her close. “I promise, I’m okay. Nothing that a couple of weeks of rest won’t heal.”
“Scared the shit out of me,” she whispers before pressing a kiss over my heart and then stares up at me with wet blue eyes. “Don’t you dare do that to me again, Brady Wild.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I grin and kiss the top of her head. “Where’s Daisy?”
“I’m here.” We turn to the stairs where Daisy’s grinning, but my eyes narrow in on the brace on her right wrist.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Swear jar,” Daisy announces, but I ignore her and hurry over to where she stands on the fourth step from the bottom, my heart in my goddamn throat.
“What happened?” I repeat, frowning into her sweet face.
“I fell off of Good Girl yesterday.” She shows me her brace.
I whirl to Abbi, and it makes me dizzy for half of a second. Millie’s coming in with my bags.
“Why didn’t you tell me that she got hurt?”
“Because you got hurt, too.” Abbi props her hands on her hips. “And I didn’t want to tell you before you rode because you would be distracted. It’s not broken. If it had been broken, or if something worse had happened, I definitely would have told you.”