Page 59 of Call the Shots (For The Arena #1)

JUNE

I NEED A MIRACLE

I arrived at the training facility in a brand-new coral-color professional suit, with sharp shoulders to ward away lesser predators. Everyone waved at me, and I waved back, polite and cordial, because once my appointment started, I planned to be anything but.

As soon as I stepped onto the third floor, I checked my folder with my print-outs, thumbing through the list. Fifteen minutes until my appointment. This was my shot. I owed it to the Gladiators to try everything I could.

“June,” a voice commanded my attention.

With everything else falling apart, Xavier’s arrival was the least important part of my day. I rolled my eyes. “Uh-huh.”

Xavier broke away from a team of embarrassed housing employees, careful to avoid looking at me, but he wasn’t embarrassed. He strode up, all smiles. “We’re asking about the extra space now that—well—the Orson J. Portnoy Arena will be gone.”

“The Colo,” I corrected him, “isn’t gone yet. Your signatures won’t mean anything.”

“You’re back to your same strategy?”

“I’m not interested in whatever brand of bullshit you have going on.” I motioned him away. “Go away.”

He dropped his voice, careful to keep quiet. “Can I break it to Bear? He shouldn’t get his hopes up because you’ll find an athlete to fuck on the side? Or are you sticking with King out of habit?”

I yanked down my folder. “What are you talking about?”

“Pretending like you don’t know?”

“I didn’t fuck King,” I hissed. “Ever. Is that what this is about? You’re punishing me for something I didn’t do? You’re a liar and?—”

“You play the victim card so well.”

“You—you—” My words trailed off while I gazed up at Xavier, smirking with satisfaction. The conversation played back to me. Something wasn’t right. I held up a finger, thinking it through. “Wait, no. I…don’t believe you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Gaslighting?—”

“No, if you thought I was ever sleeping with King while we were dating, you would’ve lost your shit.

” So why was Xavier saying this? I swept my hair behind my shoulders, thinking.

“You…don’t actually believe that. My mama’s right.

You just want to argue. You want attention.

Some proof that I care. That you mean something to me. ”

“That makes you sound guilty?—”

“I don’t give a shit if you think I fucked the whole football team.” I shrugged and moved past him. There were way more pressing things in my schedule. “I don’t have anything to gain from this conversation. Fuck off.”

“You’re trying to make me jealous with my fucking stepbrother, ” he snapped, putting a hand out, stopping me in my tracks. “I see you, flaunting him on campus?—”

“Flaunting him?” I whirled around. “You’re an idiot—you missed out on such a great stepbrother. I was an idiot too for believing you! He’s sweet, loyal to a fault, his team loves him. I feel so safe with him. He makes every day good and…and…”

I froze, eyes on the clock behind Xavier even though I couldn’t read the time. My brain was too busy recreating that warm, bubbly feeling when I saw Bear…

Oh.

Oh no.

Bear and I catapulted into this connection—he meant more to me than I could explain. The trust we shared made it feel like I’d known Bear for years, not months. Xavier was yammering about something or whatever, but I put a hand to my chest, feeling the steady thump-thump-thump of my heartbeat.

Oh my god—I had feelings for Bear. Like feelings feelings.

“No, you don’t,” I whispered. “That’d ruin everything.”

The door for my appointment opened and the lawyers called me in. I abandoned Xavier, who started yelling—I really wasn’t paying attention to him—I was too busy thinking about Bear.

“June.” Kurt smiled, shaking my hand.

I had a dozen lawyers to talk to about the Gladiators.

Their team would be going under if I didn’t do everything I could to stop that.

I took a deep breath, shaking more hands, sinking into the resolution.

Having feelings for Bear didn’t matter. He meant so much to me and I’d do anything to make sure the Gladiators wouldn’t dissolve.

“It’s terrible what happened to your hockey team,” Alonzo said sympathetically. “What did you want to speak about?”

“It’s an unfortunate development,” I agreed, taking my seat on the other side of the table.

“It’s hard to believe a coach would take advantage of the system.” Kurt clicked his tongue.

I pulled out a paper from my folder. “I read the Marrs’ statement. Disappointing that a coach would neglect his team and conspire against the university—it’s a great statement. Except…you were informed.” I slid papers across the table. “Here, here, and here.”

The warm smiles on the lawyers’ faces disappeared until I was left with a table of people in business suits, staring at me.

Kurt paused. “June?”

“Marrs University was informed of his behavior from me— there’s my official MU email address, Cleo Bennight, Denali Maddox, and Bear Moreau…

those emails start at the beginning of the summer.

You were separately informed in meetings I held with the athletics directors, and I have snapshots of my name on the front desk sheets?—”

Tom reached for a paper, and Alonzo jerked over. “Don’t touch those, Tom.”

“I understand Marrs’s playbook,” I said. “Put the blame on Vernon, avoid accountability. But we tried multiple times to contact a higher-up about Vernon’s behavior and were rebuked at every turn.”

“We get complaints about every professor who fails an athlete, every security guard who gives them a parking ticket, anyone who’s deemed disrespectful,” Kurt said carefully. “How were we supposed to know?—”

“Marrs willingly allowed someone to mismanage their team because the Gladiators were a last-minute ploy for donations.”

Alonzo held up a hand. “We don’t confirm that?—”

“I apologize, I’m not one of the athletes who depend on you for a paycheck, I’m Frederick Basil’s daughter, who’s running for mayor, and he’s incredibly interested in this as a platform.”

“On what grounds?” Kurt demanded.

“Students go to the polls. My dad sees this as an easy path for votes, calling for universities to take care of their own.”

“Who do we call?” Tom whispered.

“Tom, quiet,” Alonzo muttered back.

I pulled out the paper with my dad’s letterhead. “My father will be only too happy to provide lawyers for the Gladiators in their ongoing lawsuit against Marrs, not Vernon, unless of course…Marrs is able to sign on another coach and my boys get to play together.”

“She’s bluffing,” Alonzo announced.

I pulled my face together, keeping my emotions in check.

I was bluffing.

The emails were real, but my parents shied away from anything controversial. A lawsuit with the family name was unthinkable. I stole the letterhead from my dad’s desk and photoshopped his signature at the bottom, writing over it carefully with a pen, smudging the ink at the end.

“Why would I bluff?” I asked.

“Look, June.” Kurt rubbed his temples. “We happily gave you recommendations for law school?—”

“I need something for the team?—”

“We understand you’re disappointed, but we can’t help,” Alonzo said gently.

I whipped out my phone and showed a picture of the boys, calling the offices together on the second-floor lounge. “They worked their asses off and I can’t just abandon them. Marrs can’t abandon them!”

“We don’t sign contracts for coaches?—”

“But you talk to donors, investors, the Marrs president. I need something. I need a miracle!”