Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Really? ’Cause I should be more concerned about what Boston thinks than—”
Ger made an obnoxious buzzer noise. “Wrong. Boston is stoked to have you and the free publicity. Geez, if you can get Alli and Liam to come to a few games, you’ll be a hero. You’re a moneymaker, and they know it. As long as you don’t do anything completely insane for a year, you’re their golden boy.”
“What qualifies as insane?”
“Ugly drunken displays, drugs, orgies, excessive gambling, stripping in public, coming out as—oh, thanks.” He paused mid-speech as a server arrived with our meals. Once we were alone again, he continued. “But you’re not insane, and you know the drill better than most. Play ball, have fun, and let me worry about managing everything else.”
“Yeah…right.”
Ger lifted his flute in a toast. “To you and to Boston, and…to me.”
I snorted but tapped my glass to his anyway. “You’re a dick.”
“Maybe. But I know what I’m talking about. We can meet in LA next week and go over some of the advertising ops that have come in.”
“We’ll have to do it by phone. I won’t be there,” I replied, cutting into my filet mignon.
Ger frowned, his fork frozen above a mountain of vegetables. “Why not? Where are you going?”
“Back to Vermont. Val’s in-laws are visiting from Jamaica. We’re doing a house swap. He isn’t using his place in Wood Hollow, and I don’t need to be in LA. Win-win.”
He stared at me for a beat, slowly lowering his fork. “I don’t get it. I did some research and saw a few of the pics and videos on social media from last weekend, and uh…no offense, but Vermont looks boring as fuck.”
“It’s not boring at all. There’s a lot to do. The lake is beautiful, and it’s spring now, so you can take a boat out and probably jet ski…and stuff.”
A sly smile tilted a corner of his mouth. “And stuff. Got it. You met someone. I’m happy for you, man.”
“It’s…” I shook my head. “It’s not like that. It’s…”
Ger chuckled. “I hope it is. I hope it’s exactly like that. Things are turning around for you, Si. I like it.”
I nodded, tucking into my meal with a little less gusto than my agent. Honestly, I was wingin’ it like crazy. First of all, I’d wildly exaggerated the house swap with Val. The truth: I’d asked Val yesterday if he’d mind if I made Wood Hollow home base through July, and he’d immediately agreed…and countered with a request for his in-laws to use my house for a week so he wouldn’t have to get them a hotel…or worse, have them stay at their place.
It was a done deal yesterday, within hours of signing the contract with Boston. The crazy thing was that I hadn’t told Cooper. I figured I’d tell him in person tomorrow. I needed to see his face to be sure he was okay with it. He had a life that had nothing to do with me in Wood Hollow, and I wanted him to know I fully expected his kids to come first. I just…wanted whatever was left over.
And that had nothing to do with football or Alli or publicity of any kind. It was Cooper.
Only him.
But I didn’t want to make life unnecessarily complicated. So if Cooper voiced any hesitation, I’d go.
I wasn’t sure what to think of Ger’s assumption that I was seeing someone, though. He wasn’t wrong, but I hadn’t denied or confessed. I’d let it go…along with his unfinished coming-out warning. Maybe he was going to say vegan, and not bi or gay or…whatever, but it didn’t matter. I had no plans to come out.
I was perfectly happy in the closet.
See? Everything was fine.
The story broke the next morning. NFL veteran, Silas Anderson had officially opted out of retirement to sign a one-year multimillion-dollar contract with Boston.
There were thousands of photos of me wearing a brand-new ball cap, and a brief press conference in which I fielded softball questions like, “Are you excited to play for Boston?” or “What do you think the chances are that this team will make it to the Super Bowl?”
Answers: yes and good.
The tougher question was “Why’d you decide to keep playing?” with the implied “at your age.”
I said I loved the sport, thought I had another year in me, and I was grateful Boston felt the same.
A few more pics later, I bade Ger good-bye and got a ride to the airport. The drive from Burlington to Wood Hollow was the longest leg of my journey. I texted Cooper from the car rental agency, hopped into my new rental—a black Jeep this time—and headed south.
The long ribbon of highway stretched on forever with zero traffic, not something you’d see late afternoon in the concrete jungles of Los Angeles. I followed the signs for the Four Forest exit, my pulse skittering with anticipation as the road narrowed and the trees soared like skyscrapers against the blue sky.