Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Tara didn’t like football, Miss Janie. She called me a meathead. We had zilch in common.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Doesn’t matter if there’s no connection.” I wink. “Guess I need to go back to bed, wake up, and try again for that million dollars.”
She stands up, straightening her skirt. “You got any new pictures of your niece?”
“Sure do.” I cross over to her desk, pull out my phone, and bring up one of Callie holding the dog my sister Rae got her. “She got a poodle. Begged for it, and my sister and Mom can’t say no to that face. Rae said he chews shoes and scratches up the couch. Chaos.” I chuckle.
She leans in and takes in the photo. “Oh, River, she looks like you in this one.”
“Hmmm.” I look down at Callie’s face, and my heart softens to a pile of mush.
“Any plans for the break? You doing the ski trip?”
Uncertainty rises. I love the feeling of flying over snow, my skis swishing as everything drifts away. The university gives us a discounted rate, and this year’s destination is close to my hometown in Vermont. I grew up a few hours from the Adirondack Mountains, and when the campus chose White Face Lodge in January, I was stoked and made my reservation.
But…
My chest tightens, emotion stinging. “I was all in until Mom got sick. She’s insisting I still go. We argued about it.” I roll my eyes. “Well, she yelled while I held the phone out. She…” wants life to go on as usual.
“She wouldn’t want you to give up on what you do every year.”
I arch a brow. “You’ve been texting with her again. You two kill me.”
“We do Zoom calls and drink margaritas once a week.” She grins. “Nina is dear to me and technically I’m your campus mom, so deal with it.”
Miss Janie and Mom met my freshman year at a meet and greet for the players and staff, and they immediately hit it off. They’re both from the New England area, in their fifties, single, and adore me.
“Go. Enjoy yourself. It’s just a three-day trip. Then go see your mom for two weeks.”
I exhale. Mom is recovering after several chemo cycles. She didn’t make any games this year because she couldn’t be around crowds. Chemo weakens her immune system, and any kind of viral or bacterial infection might put her in the hospital.
“We’ll see.” Code for I’m not going.
Miss Janie gives me a side hug, and my throat is raw as I hug her back. She pats my arm then moves to her desk. “Now, who are you here to see today?”
“Edward.” My anxiousness ramps up.
She types into her computer. “He’s finishing up a call.”
“Got it.” I plop down in one of the leather seats and bounce my knee.
The elevator pings, and she moves her gaze to the doors behind me.
“Can I help you?” she says.
A man dressed in a polo shirt and khakis walks up to her desk. Late twenties with a red goatee, he’s holding a phone in front of him like he’s recording.
“Hello! I hope so!” He smiles broadly. “I’m doing a story and was wondering if I could get the administration’s reaction to the Badgers’ season—”
“That’s enough,” Miss Janie says, her normally sweet voice sharp as knives. “Put that phone down and stop recording immediately!”
He swivels his phone around the room. “Hello, viewers. Here’s where the magic didn’t happen this year for the Braxton Badgers. A former national championship team, they were supposed to be at the top of their game. What went wrong?”
Miss Janie stalks toward him, all five feet of her.
“Don’t get too close,” I tell her as I stand and step between them. I’ve been in the limelight long enough to see reporters trample people to get what they want. Last year after we won the championship, a guy from ESPN mowed down two athletic trainers to stick a mic in my face.
He shoves his phone in my direction. “…and here we have River Tate, star wide receiver. Not quite a star though, am I right? Is it true you frequently fought with your teammates?”
“No.” My fists curl. That is not true. My team means everything to me.
“How do you explain five dropped passes?”
Honestly? I played after a rough tackle when I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t a concussion—the trainers checked—but it was serious, and I went back in anyway.
Miss Janie inches closer to us, hands flapping. “In the state of Georgia, our legal statutes prescribe that if you want to film in this building, you need to have written permission from Braxton. You do not have written permission, and any video you have taken since you parked your car is illegal. If you use any of those recordings, including this one, without blurring the image of every individual associated with this university, we will be forced to sue you and whatever platform on which you broadcast your production. Do you understand what I just explained to you?”