Series: Fever Falls Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“I get it, Andrea, I get it.” How could I not? Leaning forward, I put my phone on speaker, set it on the table, and rubbed my temples. “If not Avalanche, who else do we have? The Storm?”
“No.”
My stomach dropped. “Houston?”
“No, Ash. We have feelers out…but no one is taking the bait.”
My head swam, and I got dizzy. How was that possible? I was Ashton Carmichael—first-round pick, Rookie of the Year, MVP, the leader of a championship team. I was born to play football.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she asked again.
Excuses tangled in my brain—lies as well as the truth. What was wrong with consenting adults having sex? Even in groups. I didn’t have an orgy. I was being blackmailed. But as I opened my mouth, I knew none of it mattered. “There’s nothing I can do here, is there?” I asked, because what else could I say? Andrea was a miracle worker, but I could feel it in my gut—my football days were numbered.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I’m going to try and work some magic. Elliott is out of the country, but Dax is going to meet me at your place.” Elliott and Dax worked for the PR firm that represented me. Elliott was usually my guy, but Dax had been known to jump in from time to time.
“Okay,” I replied. “Dax is a good man and good at what he does.” If anyone could get me out of this, it was Andrea and Dax.
“I’ll see you in a few minutes. Don’t leave your damn house. Don’t call or talk to anyone until we can figure out how to spin this. And if there’s anything you can think of that’ll help us here, for God’s sake, share it with me. I know how proud you are sometimes. Now doesn’t need to be one of those times.”
“I know, I know,” I replied. “See you in a few minutes.”
The second she ended the call, I fell back into the armchair. “Fuck, Bridget.” If she’d needed money, why hadn’t she just come to me? Asked me? Why go through the risk of blackmailing me with the photos when I would have helped her regardless? And why, even after I paid, did she leak them?
The more important questions were: Why hadn’t I told Andrea about the blackmail? Why didn’t I plan to? And how had Bridget known that no matter what, I wouldn’t? Not even to save my career.
CHAPTER TWO
Beau
My brother, Beau, is the best man I know. ~ Love, Kenny
“It smells good in here,” I said as I stepped into the house, the scent of basil and oregano filling my nose.
“I’m making meatballs!” Kenny looked over his shoulder at me and smiled as I came into the kitchen. The leather journal he often wrote in was on the counter beside him.
Mom cleared her throat from where she stood looking through a cabinet.
“We’re making meatballs.” Kenny caught my eye again and rolled his.
“That’s better.” Mom closed the cabinet, walked over, and kissed my cheek. She wore jeans and her Campbell’s Confections shirt. It had been the name of the bakery before Dad left, before he’d decided it was too hard having kids, especially one with special needs, and bailed on us when I was eleven. People had asked her why she hadn’t changed it and taken her maiden name back, but she always said her boys were Campbells and so was she.
Her brown hair was in a bun, short curls having slipped out around her ears. Her eyes were tired, yet happy in a way I’d grown up with. It hadn’t been easy for her to raise Kenny and me alone, but she’d done it and she’d loved it. There wasn’t a part of me that didn’t know my mother would do it all over again, that we were her heart—especially Kenny. He was impossible not to love, they both were, which was why I fought never to feel sorry for myself for staying. That’s what family did.
I walked over to my brother and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry, Kenny. I know you did all the work,” I teased, and Mom laughed.
“Don’t ruffle my hair, Beau. I’m not a baby!” Kenny gave me a playful evil eye, and I held up my hands in defeat.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were too cool for affection from your brother now. Being twenty will do that to a guy.” Kenny had turned twenty a few days before and hadn’t stopped reminding us about it. He suddenly felt grown up, not being a teenager anymore.
“You’re being sarcastic,” he replied, and both Mom and I chuckled. Kenny’s eyes glowed like they so often did, a smile pulling at his lips. The simplest things made him happy—laughter, birds, sunshine. The world would be a whole lot happier place if everyone looked at it through Kenny’s eyes.