Page 19 of Take Care, Taylor

I was still holding out hope that I’d never have to actually see her again.

Now that I had, though, the truth was evident.

I still fucking hate her…

When I last saw her, she was pretty—gorgeous even—but now?

She was stunning as hell, and no other woman came close.

Her deep brown curls framed her face like an angel’s, complementing her hazel eyes. Her bow-shaped lips were coated in candy red, and every man who passed by her in that airportdid a slow double-take at the way her purple dress clung to her curves.

I almost felt bad for the way we “ended” things.

Keyword:Almost.

“Heads up, Taylor!” Brandon, my fellow rookie teammate, tossed a box to the back seat. “The Sharpie is at the bottom, and you need to sign all fifty of those cards before we get to the next photo op.”

“Will do.”

Grateful for the distraction, I opened the box.

With every signature I signed against the laminate, I weighed the pros and cons of “sticking to football” versus staying in the program for the next few months.

Pros:

Freedom. Writing. Mental break. Old dreams I still want.

Cons:

Audrey Parker. Audrey Parker. Audrey Parker.

AUDREY PARKER.

“Dealing with her isn’t worth it,” I muttered.

“Dealing withwhoisn’t worth it?” Brandon turned around.

“Nothing. I was just thinking aloud.”

When I finished signing the deck of cards, my phone buzzed with a text.

Nick (Agent)

Just set up a meeting with you and Cold Energy Drink + a Zoom call with NFL Gear. They’re interested in signing you to a FULL deal when you’re healthy, so I’m thinking we increase the doctor’s check-ins to twice a week instead of one?

The text glowed on the screen, another reminder of the world waiting for me to care.

Fuck that. I’m staying away from football for as long as I can…

TRACK 7. DON’T BLAME ME (3:45)

AUDREY

The private school’s campus greets me like an old friend—its lush green acres unfolding for miles, dotted with whitewashed buildings that line the cobblestone paths. In the distance, waves crash against a stretch of white sand.

It’s the type of view that washes away all thoughts of seeing He Who Shall Not Be Named.

“This is your residence.” My guide stopped in front of a beautiful glass building that faced the beach. “You’re assigned to Suite 7B. I’ll have your luggage sent up, if you want to go ahead and take a look at the place.”