Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“I’m positive.”
Not certain what to make of that, Danny next called his agent, Matthew. He and Jake had different agents—on their big brother’s advice.
“Stop any conflicts of interests before they arise,” Gabriel had said, the steel gray of his eyes holding the calm that came with years of experience. “Any decisions you two make over whether you both want to angle for an opportunity or not will be between brothers. You don’t want to put that on an agent.”
Today Matthew was in full agreement with Danny’s decision to put it all on the record. Most players would’ve contacted their agent first, before they did anything else, but Matthew knew Danny—and he understood that on certain things, Danny would make his own call. That was why their relationship worked.
“It’ll be fine,” the agent added. “Similar thing happened to another player on an international tour a few years before your time, and it was classified as a medical incident. No one’s going to be idiotic about it. I’ll touch base with team management now.”
Feeling better with all that done, Danny got stuck into his food. When he looked up to find all the scrambled eggs and bacon gone, he made a mournful face.
Catie laughed. “I’ll make you more.”
“No, I can do it.” He’d been raised by parents who both pulled their weight, had seen the same thing in the marriages of his older brothers.
Not only that, after Danny was chosen for the national squad at a bare nineteen years of age, his father had taken him aside and given him a piece of advice that Danny had never forgotten. “This kind of fame and money so young,” Joseph Esera had said in his quiet way, “it can change you. Especially when it comes to how you treat others.”
He’d patted Danny on the shoulder, his stubble already more salt than pepper and his eyes warm with pride. “I can’t see you ever going that way, son. You have your mother’s heart. But I wouldn’t be a good father if I didn’t warn you of the dangers—I’ve seen too many young players fall victim to it, end up surrounded by people who only wear the mask of friendship. In the end, it’s a hollow life.”
But Catie waved him down today. “Special dispensation on medical grounds. One time only.” A glare. “If you ever tell anyone I was nice to you, I’ll kick you where it hurts—with my pointiest prosthetic foot.”
He winced. “You’re mean in the morning. But I like your eggs.”
“Humph.”
Watching her in motion was a pleasure he didn’t deny himself. She moved like a dancer, no trace remaining of the awkward teen who’d transitioned from prosthetic limb to prosthetic limb through her erratic growth spurts. At least she’d had an excuse for her awkwardness; he’d just been all skinny arms and legs and a total lack of coordination.
“You feeling okay after having your legs on all night?” He knew she was a full-time user of prostheses, but that didn’t mean twenty-four hours a day.
“I’m fine, but I’ll probably take a little time-out after breakfast.” As she sprinkled herbs into the eggs, she said, “I forgot how much you can eat. Are you still on like six meals a day?”
“Yup. Where do you think this big, beautiful body comes from?” Leaning back in the chair, he spread his arms wide.
A jaundiced look up and down. “Seen better.”
“Oh, ouch.” Grinning, he rubbed a hand over his abdomen. “You have a gym in this building?”
“Building?” A snort. “Have you met my mother?” She pointed to the corridor that led in the other direction from the kitchen area. “The Dragon never does anything by halves. Her private gym’s thataway.”
* * *
When Danny rose and wandered off to check out the exercise area, Catie let him go without comment. He was wound up, stressed, needed the familiar. And for an athlete, a gym was familiar territory.
She heard his admiring whistle from the kitchen.
“Damn, princess,” he said when he walked back down the corridor. “You’ve got over a hundred grand worth of equipment in there.”
“Probably closer to a quarter mil,” she said. “I told Jacqueline I didn’t need all that, but you know how she is.” She shrugged, well used to her mother’s way of throwing money at her children in lieu of affection.
In fairness, she was better these days, and a good grandmother to Ísa and Sailor’s two demons—said demons having learned all their tricks from Catie—but Catie couldn’t simply forget her own childhood.
Danny grimaced. “Money talks and emotion is for sissies, right?”
Oh yeah, Danny knew Jacqueline.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Catie put a little bit too much power into mixing up the eggs. “I’m grateful for her money and all it’s meant for me.” It had given her a quality of life she’d never otherwise have had, especially after the accident.