Page 8

8

VIRAL

Emma

I do not go home with Jack.

There’s no way I’m telling my dad to just turn around after trekking all the way to the airport.

Besides, I’m out of clothes, I need a shower, and it’s not like I can interview the man who is the hottest topic on the internet about being a winner—or a criminal, depending on what camp you’re in—without both. I don’t know anyone who can do that on the fly. I’m also not Ross and, therefore, don’t lug camera equipment around with me.

As much as I know this is a priority, I need a minute to get my shit together.

Jack will just have to deal.

Dad has been grilling me nonstop all the way home about the game, my viral interview, and how lucky I was to have him and Levi teach me all the things about football.

“Proud of you, Em. I knew you could do it,” he says as he turns into the long drive to the house that’s seen its share of changes over the years. This place looks nothing like the run-down, century-old farmstead we moved into before Dad and Keelie were officially a thing.

“I’m glad you knew I could do it, because I didn’t have that confidence in myself.” I collect my things as he comes to a stop in the driveway and opens the garage door. “I bullshitted my way through the entire week. I’m counting on Ross to keep my secret that I barely know anything about the game I just reported on.”

He throws it in park and kills the engine. “You were perfect. There’s plenty of commentators who specialize in breaking down every play. You did what you were sent there to do. Your producer must be happy.”

“I hope so. I knew there would be a learning curve with this job, but last week was Mount Everest steep. I’m sure I’ll be sent back to stinky high school gyms, so now is the time to learn everything.”

I climb out of the car as Dad gets my bags and proves he’s all in no matter what his kids are interested in. “We’ll start on basketball rules right away.”

“Emma! You’re famous!”

I turn to the garage to see Saylor come barreling at me from the house. I have to brace when my younger sister throws her arms around my neck and jumps up and down. “I don’t know about famous.”

“You are!” she squeals and finally steps back. “Everyone was talking about it at school today. And I don’t care what Brett Sullivan did—he’s hot. And the way he picked you up for a big, sweaty hug was unreal. Please, make my dreams come true and tell me he asked for your number when the camera shut off. That would be, like, a fairytale love story for the ages.”

“How many times have I told you to quit talking about love stories?” Dad says before turning to me. “She’s been going on about this since the game last night. She’s been sixteen for two seconds. I’m running off high school boys left and right these days. I do not need her going on and on about love stories.”

“Whatever. I’m almost seventeen.” Saylor beams like nothing could make her happier than a drove of high school boys knocking on her door. “Dad just can’t handle that I’m the baby and he’ll have no one else to fuss over.”

Saylor is not wrong. When she leaves for college, Dad might have a mini-alpha meltdown. If I can find a man who loves me half as much as Dad loves his family, I’ll be lucky.

Dad fell in love with my high school counselor when I was going through the worst patch of drama that could ever be thrown at a girl. As mortifying as it was at the time, there’s no one more perfect for my dad than Keelie.

And he didn’t just fall in love with my counselor, he embraced Knox and Saylor as his own and adopted them on their wedding day. Their dad might have died when they were young, but Asa Hollingsworth has loved them like they’re his own. Knox is away at college being the best brainiac he can be, and Saylor is a junior in high school.

We’re a blended, all-American family from Levi down to Saylor.

My sister grabs me by the arm and pulls me into the house. “Tell me everything, and don’t leave out one single detail. I want to be you, so I’ve decided to follow in your footsteps and go into broadcasting.”

“That’s interesting,” Dad mutters and follows us into the house with my bags. “Yesterday you wanted to be a physical therapist. The day before that you wanted to be a vet.”

I don’t have time to start in about my rollercoaster of a week. Keelie flips the water off to the sink and comes straight for us. “Why are we talking about Saylor’s ever-changing career choices when all we want to hear about is Brett Sullivan?”

“You too?” Dad complains. “I need to invite the guys over. There’s a lack of testosterone in this house.”

“You’re the love of my life, Asa.” Keelie lifts to her toes and kisses Dad, as if that will soften the blow from her next words. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about the quarterback like every other woman in the country.”

Dad shakes his head and moves through the kitchen. “I can’t listen to this any longer. After I dump your bags in your room, I’m out of here. I’ll hit the gym or go to the range for target practice.”

“We love you,” Keelie calls in a sing-song voice as he walks away. Dad grumbles something under his breath, but Keelie only has eyes for me and says through a huge grin, “Tell us everything.”

I drop my backpack to the counter and have no plans to tell them everything. “There’s nothing to tell besides what you saw on TV. The game was amazing. I got the thirty-second sound bite from Sullivan that you saw. But you know me—I’m way more interested in the drama. I’ve reached out to Sullivan to see if he’ll talk to me about the photos that were leaked overnight.” What I don’t tell her is that the interview was set up for me by Jack, but I at least need to pretend I’m trying. “It’s a stretch, but you never know.”

Keelie loses her grin. Her expression returns to one I became way too familiar with when we first came to live here over a decade ago. It’s her adult counselor face that screams concern. “Guns and drugs … the whole story is surprising. He comes across as friendly as a golden retriever, not to mention, he’s the hottest thing in football right now. Why would he dabble in anything illegal?”

“Does it matter, Mom? He’s hot. I mean, those dark, moody eyes and thick, dark hair.” Saylor turns from Keelie to me. “I think Brett is into you. He hasn’t said one word to the media since those pictures were leaked. I’ve been watching all day.”

I narrow my eyes. “He just won the biggest game on the planet. He was so happy, he didn’t realize what he was doing. Brett Sullivan is not into me.”

Her eyes widen, and she stares at me like I’m the world’s most profound idiot. “Well, you won’t know if you don’t try. What’s wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I snap as my mind goes back to Brett’s agent, who I’m now carnally familiar with … the same man who kissed me so deep and long before we got off the plane that it made my knees weak and the old lady behind us yell one more time for good measure. I pull in a deep breath and look at my cell when it vibrates with a text. When I see who it’s from, I slide it into my pocket without reading it, and lie, “That’s my producer. I need to call him back and then shower off the airport germs. I might need to go into the studio tonight.”

Keelie glances at the clock. “Tonight? Can they not give you a travel day? You’ve been gone for a week. You haven’t even had dinner.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. They upgraded my ticket, so I ate on the plane and took a mega nap. I’m good to go for the night.”

Keelie frowns and Saylor doesn’t let up about the football player who’s in trouble up to his dark, moody eyes . “Is it about Brett Sullivan?”

I grab my backpack and head for the stairs. “I’m positive he only wants to give me the high school basketball schedule for the week, Saylor. You need to focus on boys your own age. Maybe, if you’re lucky, Knox will bring some friends home from college during spring break.”

She rolls her eyes. “Knox’s friends are smarty pants, just like him. I want a hot jock.”

Dad comes stomping down the stairs to pass me just in time to hear Saylor. “If you don’t stop talking about hot jocks, I’ll come unglued.”

The last thing I hear are Keelie and Saylor’s laughter when I shut the door to the room that’s been mine since my freshman year of high school. I pull my phone out and toss my backpack to the bed.

Jack – I don’t know what hurts more since you ran out on me at the airport, my pride or my feelings. You’re embarrassed to be seen with me, aren’t you? Especially in front of Daddy Asa.

I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips as my ass hits the edge of the bed.

Me – I’d never be embarrassed of you, even if we aren’t “a thing.”

Jack – Oh, Emma. We will talk about all the “things” we are when you get to my place, which better be soon. We have a football player’s reputation to resuscitate, a career to save, and a certain new-to-town sexy broadcaster to ride her viral rise to stardom.

I flop back on my bed.

Me – I just got home. How are we going to do all that?

Jack – My biggest client just landed in the Commonwealth on a private jet. I drove by his place on my way home. There’s so many paparazzi and media outlets staked outside it makes the flies pestering your goats look friendly.

Me – Wow. Whose feelings are hurt now? I am the media, Jack.

Jack – Yes, but you’re going to use your powers for good and not evil.

Me – I’m neutral to good and evil. I only report the truth, even if it’s just high school basketball at the moment.

Jack – Enough of that. My public relations nightmare and I are promoting you to hard-hitting news. You might get an Emmy when it’s all said and done. An Emmy for Emma.

Me – I forgot how dramatic you can be. You weren’t like this last night.

Jack – Last night, my life wasn’t falling apart. Last night, I had nothing to focus on but you. My goal is to fix everything else so I can get back to recreating last night.

Me – You assume I want more of last night.

Jack – I know you do. Now, get your fine ass to my place stat. And pack a bag. It’ll be late when we’re done. We’ll work on recreating last night right after you interview my client.

I sit up, equally intrigued by Jack’s client and recreating last night.

Me – Brett will be there?

Jack – Don’t make me jealous, Em. It’s not a pretty sight. Brett can’t exactly go home with everyone wanting a piece of him. I told him to come straight here after he lands.

I glance at the clock on the screen. The network is still open. The late-night news doesn’t go live for another two hours.

Jack is not a patient man.

Jack – Do not ghost me, Em. I need you … in all the ways.

Me – I’m not ghosting you. Just thinking things through. I need a camera.

Jack – For fuck’s sake, I have to do everything. Where do I get a camera?

Me – I can get my own camera, jackwad.

Jack – That’s always had a different meaning for me. No one’s called me a jackwad in years. I feel like I’m back in high school.

Me – Okay, you talked me into it. Send me your address. I’m going to take a shower, so I don’t look like hell, stop by the station, and I’ll be there.

Jack – Was it my promise to elevate you to a new level of viral or my magic cock?

Me – I’m tired of mean girls and stinky high school gyms. My answer is viral.

Jack – Get your sweet ass over here, baby. I can’t wait to convince you how wrong you are.