Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“I don’t care,” I say flatly. “Print it word for word, or there’s no interview. Besides, you’ll be quoting me as the source, so there’s no blowback on you.”
Jillian studies me for a beat, then nods slowly. She presses a button on her phone to start recording, which I’d previously given her permission to do. “Okay, Mr. Navarro. You’ve got the floor. Why don’t you start at the beginning, tell me your story, and I’ll try to hold all questions until the end.”
I nod in understanding, lean forward and clasp my hands between my knees. “I was seventeen. A junior player with the Muskogee Wraiths in Minnesota. One night, I was hanging out with a handful of the older players at the house of Peter Brennan. He was the coach’s son.” I feel Mila’s hand touch my back and she keeps it there for support. “They were drinking, talking shit and laughing about something that didn’t sit right with me.”
Jillian’s fingers move across her keyboard, making notes and probably a list of follow-up questions. I keep going.
“They were bragging—joking—about what they’d done to Nathan Gentry, a fifteen-year-old player who had just joined the team. He’d been struggling to adjust and they thought a little hazing would straighten him out. I know you know the details of that incident, so I won’t go into it again.”
Jillian nods, her eyes focused on her laptop screen, but I can tell she’s tuned into me.
I press on. “That’s how I learned what they’d done, but that was before anyone knew that Nathan had died. When I found out the next morning, I was sick to my stomach.” My jaw clenches at the memory. “The police had no clue what had happened and I’d thought, outside of those guys, I was the only other one who knew the truth.”
“And who exactly was in attendance?” Jillian asks and then glances up at me with an apologetic smile. “Sorry… didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s all good. The only ones there beside me were the ones who did the actual hazing.”
Jillian looks to a spiral pad beside her, flips a page and consults the notes. “So just you, Brennan, Holloway, DeLuca and Briggs?”
I twist my neck, look to Mila who smiles with encouragement, her hand still warm on my back. I return my attention to Jillian. “Unbeknownst to me, Mila was hiding just outside the open doorway in the hall and she overheard everything.”
“What did you do?” Jillian asks.
I lift a shoulder. “I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified. I was torn because on one hand, I thought it was a horrible accident gone wrong and the guys shouldn’t be punished. But on the other hand, I couldn’t believe how funny they thought it was and how cruel I found them to be. I was worried about getting them in trouble, I was worried about Nathan’s parents not having closure, and I was worried about our team suffering. But I talked to my dad about it. I told him everything. And he said something I’ll never forget—‘Doing the right thing isn’t supposed to feel easy.’” I exhale slowly, the weight of that memory still fresh. “So, I went to the police. Gave them what I overheard. They were grateful for the information, but were very clear that it wouldn’t hold up because it would be my word against theirs.”
Jillian looks up from her laptop, eyes narrowing slightly. “And that’s when Mila came forward?”
I nod. “She’d heard enough to know that I wasn’t involved in it. She was torn just like me and she had her parents telling her to stay quiet. That’s when she approached me and I found out she’d heard all of it.”
“I wanted to corroborate his story,” Mila explains.
I reach back, take her hand in mine and pull it into my lap as I settle against the couch beside her. “I didn’t want her to go to the police.”
“We fought about it,” Mila says. “But I did it anyway.”
Once again, I turn to look at her, those blue eyes staring back at me with full trust. “And I was pissed at her for it. I knew her life would be ruined.” We hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, although I keep talking to Jillian. “But she went,” I say, quieter. “And because she did… because she backed me up… the police had enough to charge Peter and Jace. They took plea deals. Went to prison. Ryan and Colton were kicked off the team. Their careers were over.”
“And now you potentially have four people who are pissed at both of you and might want some revenge,” Jillian murmurs thoughtfully.
“Four potential cowards,” I growl menacingly, and Jillian blinks out of her thoughts. “Four weak-minded men who want to terrorize a woman by sending her vile messages… promising pain. Promising death. And they think they’re safe hiding behind anonymous accounts and burner phones.”