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It wasn’t long before he returned my call, apologizing profusely.

“John, we can’t walk on eggshells. We have to work and pee without thinking it will break us. I’m glad you didn’t answer while in the bathroom. That’s gross to talk to someone on the phone while you’re doing your business.”

“I love how you think, Becca Shearer.”

Now I just have to convince myself to live by my own words because I was frustrated when he didn’t answer. It felt as if a crack was already forming.

“The camera crew is here,” he says, stalling for a moment. “I’ll call you when it’s over.”

And he did. We talked for an hour before I started falling asleep on the phone.

The Dallas Rattlers put up the interview today so during lunch, when I’m usually eating while reviewing a contract, I go to YouTube and pull it up.

Instantly, I’m greeted with a broad smile. John’s smile makes my belly flutter. The interviewer knows John well, having been their radio play-by-play announcer for all of John’s years on the team. Bob Singletary.

“John, first I want to congratulate you on your new contract. How does it feel to be the highest paid player on the team?”

John takes off his hat and runs his hand through his short hair before replacing it on his head backward. “The only thing it changes is my bank account. I’ve always played every game giving one hundred percent. My commitment to the game has never wavered. My workout routines are the same. Actually, that’s not true. I’ve added in some impromptu workouts to increase my stamina.”

I can tell he’s playing back our time together as he pauses.

“On vacation, I snorkeled, hiked, danced my ass off, jumped on a water trampoline, and did cheerleading stunts with a friend.”

John doesn’t expect what Bob says next, and neither do I. “With Corbin Shearer’s sister?”

What the heck? How would he know that? We’ve been home for one full day.

A veil slides over John’s face. I can tell he was surprised, but he handles it like a professional. “Yes, sir. His sister cheered for the Stallions, and it was a Stallions reunion.” He adjusts his hat again. “One of the wives of another guy was a gymnast, so we were just goofing off. Damn, I never realized how much strength and skill male cheerleaders possess. Even though Becca’s a hundred pounds soaking wet, it takes strength and focus. Not just in your arms but your whole body, especially your core.”

Bob throws a photo up on the screen and shows the physical copy to John. The grin on John’s face causes my heart to race. “Is this what you’re talking about?” Bob asks.

It's an image of John holding me above his head, with my foot in his hands while I hold my other leg by my ear—a stunt called a bow and arrow.

“Looks dangerous but wow, she’s flexible.”

John’s face lights up, and I can see the love on his face. “She is flexible and amazing. She dances for the Nashville Fireflies, the NBA team, but she was a national champion in college, and she won the World’s Championship with her stunt partner. And she’s smart as a whip.”

Bob gives him a knowing smile. “We all know last year, your best friend, Corbin Shearer’s grandmother passed away, and you dyed your hair pink along with the rest of the Nashville Notes, even though we were playing them. Do you think it’s what skyrocketed your contract?”

“No, sir. I do think it endeared me to the public, but that’s not why I did it. I’ve always been a great player. Unfortunately, I’m known for starting and finishing fights on the ice, not making friends. But life isn’t easy as a professional athlete. I know people cry boo-fucking-who, but it’s hard to know why people like you or who you can trust. So, I place my trust in mycollege teammates and best friends. They knew my cocky ass before, and nothing has changed… except. Well, I’ll just leave it there, Bob.”

The two of them discuss the upcoming season, and I zone out, thinking about how Bob got that picture. Did Stella take it? I thought she left before that, however, the days and times all run together.

“Becca, you have a call on line three,” my assistant calls out over the intercom. She hesitates before declaring, “It’s Dennis.”

I huff, half-dreading whatever he has to say. Imagine spending years with someone yet not truly knowing them. That’s how I feel about Dennis and me. “Put him through.”

To be funny, I answer, “Becca Shearer.”

“Did you change your name back officially?” he asks with a hint of disappointment in his voice. The same tone he used when he asked for a divorce.

“Not yet, but I do plan on it. What’s up?”

“I can’t find a few things. Is it okay if I come by tonight?”

Mulling it over in my mind, I say, “Dennis, no offense, but there is nothing of yours at my house. I bought you out of the condo and believe me, there is no trace of you in my house,” I snap.

The line goes silent, and I almost hang up, but then he says, “Can we talk?”