Page 101

The sun is rising over Vegas by the time the Uber pulls in front of my house.

I get out of the car and stare at the house for a beat. My beautiful girls are asleep inside, and I can’t help but wonder how much longer they’ll both be my girls.

It was a thought that plagued me the entire time I sat in that cell, but it’s something I learned from a very early age: fuck up and people will push you away.

I fucked up by having a bottle of vodka hidden in my closet, and my parents sent me to boarding school.

And now I’ve managed to fuck up again. Victoria can’t send me to boarding school, but she can leave me.

Harper can’t send me to boarding school, either, and maybe I have a bit more control over the situation where she’s concerned. Or do I? There’s a family who wants to take her away from me, and maybe she’d prefer to go with them anyway.

I’m still that twelve-year-old boy who feels very much abandoned and rejected by the people who were supposed to love me most, and even though my dad tried to clarify why they did it, that doesn’t erase the years of scars that built up over that wound.

History repeats itself. It’s a cycle, and I’m terrified I’m going to lose everything because of one stupid mistake.

Harper’s parents sure as fuck did, and it wasn’t even their mistake that cost them their lives.

I head inside, and the house is silent. I find the Mercedes in the garage, and it’s a huge comfort to know they made it home okay. I check Harper’s bedroom, and I find it empty. I wonder if they’re in Victoria’s suite, but before I check it, I head to my bedroom first…and that’s where I find them.

Both asleep in my bed.

I stare at them for a beat as love filters over the holes the fear shot through me last night.

I don’t deserve them. I glance around at the huge bedroom that’s mine, and the nice furniture, and all of it. I don’t deserve any of this, and it’s one more reason I’m starting to so strongly believe that I’m destined to lose it all.

I don’t know how to hold onto it. I’ve never had anything precious enough to hold onto in that way, I suppose.

I won’t let my paranoia get the best of me, though. Instead, I’ll take it one day at a time, and I’ll cherish what I have for as long as I have it.

Victoria stirs, and her eyes open slowly. She sees me there watching them in the morning light filtering through the window coverings, and her hand flies up to her chest as she gasps. “You scared me,” she whispers. She glances over at Harper, who’s sleeping like a rock, and she moves to get out of bed.

I hold up a hand. “Don’t get up. Let me wash the disgusting smell of holding cell off me.”

“Okay.” She halts her movement. “Did you just get back?”

I nod. “I’m going to go shower.”

She nods, too, and I can’t help but feel like there’s a wedge between us that wasn’t there before.

Maybe I’m the one creating it. Maybe I’m manifesting it. She looked hurt when I told her not to get up, and as much as I wanted to hold her in my arms, I feel like I’m filthy. I sat on a dirty jail cell floor for five hours while a drunk man puked in a toilet a few feet away from me. She deserves better.

It feels like yet another thing I’m doing for what I think is her best interest, but it turns out I’m just hurting her in the end.

And when I say she deserves better, I don’t just mean that she deserves better than to be hugged by a dirty man who spent the night in jail.

I mean she deserves better than me.

I climb into bed beside her once I’m out of the shower, and I hold her in my arms. Harper’s just on her other side, still asleep, and I wish I could hold them both at the same time.

I fall asleep for a couple hours, and when I wake up, I hear voices downstairs. The bed is empty, so I must’ve really crashed. I put on some shorts and head downstairs, and I find a whole gathering of people in my kitchen.

I sort of wish I would’ve put on a shirt, too. Maybe brushed my teeth.

Victoria is at the center, and Harper is in the family room on the couch chatting with my mother.

My mother is here. Chatting with my daughter.

My father is over in the kitchen with Victoria, and they’re talking to my lawyer, my agent, and my publicist.

That scared little boy inside feels a huge sense of relief. I have a team, and they all showed up for me.

Including my parents, who I really never considered as part of my team.

The room seems to pause as they notice my presence, and I feel awkward as they all turn toward me at the same time.

Victoria met my parents?

And I wasn’t there to introduce them?

I can’t help but wonder how that went. I can’t help but wonder a lot of things as I try to make sense of all this.

“Hi,” I say, and I wave.

Ellie takes the lead. “Good morning, sunshine. We’ve got a plan together here, so let me run it by you and you can let me know what you’re thinking.”

“You have a plan?” I repeat.

“We’ve been here an hour already,” Ellie says. “And I’m taking immediate action to fix this mess. I’ve got press interviews lined up starting later today.” She eyes me. “You’ll need to clean yourself up. Shave, put on some nice clothes, be ready to talk about how you’re a football player first and this season means everything to you. We’ll highlight how you’re a family man now. I’ll be there for all the interviews, so I can give you some more coaching before we begin. They’ll be at the practice facility starting at four o’clock this afternoon, right after OTAs.”

Shit.

OTAs.

I’m missing organized team activities. I’m missing important shit because I made a stupid mistake.

She keeps talking while I’m stuck on that point. “I just wanted to let you know up front that two of your endorsement deals are pulling out—Legends Collections and Hive. I’ll work on seeing what we can do to replace that income. I’ll need a list of people who can give you a good character reference. Teammates, coaches, mentors, past and present. I have some charity work lined up for you, and I’m guessing part of your league punishment will include that too since historically arrests have. You’ll likely have a suspension and a fine, too.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, and then my dad starts up next before I even get a chance to process that…and it was a lot. Lost endorsements? I hadn’t even considered that. Character references? Jesus.

“Swear jar!” Harper yells gleefully, and my mom gives her the sort of look that silences the child who doesn’t realize the gravity of this situation.

I walk over to the swear jar and write an IOU on the pad of paper beside it because it’s all I can process right now.

“I’ve been talking with your lawyer, and we agree that you should plead guilty to the charge since Platt has photographic evidence,” my father says. “The punishment will be less severe, and it’s pointless to fight it. Guilty plea also means no trial, which will get you out of the headlines. My best guess is a small fine and you’ll move on.”

I stare at him, too, as I process his words, but they’re all moving a million miles an hour while I’m stuck over here in neutral.

More people say things to me, but it’s like I’m in a total fog.

I force myself to snap out of it.

Ellie’s right. There’s going to be a league punishment, and the thought didn’t cross my mind when I went and got that ball and took whatever means were necessary to do what I had to do when I was blinded by rage. He kept hurting her. It wasn’t okay.

But what I did wasn’t okay, either.

“And knowing Calvin,” Ellie adds, “you’ll get called in and he’ll yell at you a bit and maybe threaten to bench you this season, but the Aces need you, so you’ll need to prove yourself in camp. It’ll be hard and you’ll need to have incredible focus. The new playbook has never been more important.”

Right. The new playbook. The map.

I glance over at Victoria. “We’ve got this, Trav,” she murmurs.

I nod. As long as I have her, she’s right. We’ve got this.