Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” Landry agrees.
I’m sitting in a chair, waiting for my name to be called for my solo shots, and watching as Conner makes a beeline for Corie. My hands rest on my thighs and ball into fists. He says something to her, leaning in close, and my girl takes a step back. She shakes her head, and he leans in again. He raises his hand to touch her, but she takes another step back.
“Are you fucking seeing this?” I ask Landry.
“Corie won’t take his bullshit.”
“He’s crowding her. She keeps pulling away from him,” I grind out.
“She knows I’m sitting right here, and that asshole knows it, as well. He’s not going to do a damn thing to her,” Landry assures me.
“He shouldn’t even be breathing the same air as her,” I spit. I’m showing my hand, but I can’t seem to care. Conner better watch his ass and keep his hands off my girl. He had his chance with her, and he fucked it up. Now, she’s mine, and she will always be mine.
I watch as Cody Martin, one of our defensemen, approaches her and starts talking. Conner throws his hands up in the air and walks away. When I see Corie's shoulders sag in relief, it takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to stalk after the bastard and let him know if I see him around her again, he’s going to find out that my throwing arm can throw punches just as well as it can pigskin.
“Landry Reynolds!” the photographer's assistant calls out. They’ve worked their way through the defense, and now they’re starting on offense.
“You good?” Landry asks me. He eyes my clenched jaw and my hands that are fisted in my lap. His brow furrows, and I can see his wheels turning. I shouldn’t be this upset. I shouldn’t feel this protective of his little sister. Sure, I can use the excuse of how Conner tried to fuck me over for his own personal gain, but with the way the rage is boiling inside me, he’ll see through it. He’ll see that she’s not just his little sister to me.
I nod because I don’t trust myself enough to speak. He stands, clamps his hand down on my shoulder, and makes his way to the photographer. I know I just fucked up. I'd be surprised if he didn’t catch on to my anger and figure out I’m madly in love with his sister.
I’m seething, ready to kick Conner’s ass, and all when my best friend was sitting next to me, and he has no idea—at least he didn’t, but he might now—that his sister is my entire world. She’s more than football. She’s my everything. I’d give it all up today if it meant she was mine for the rest of our lives.
I let that thought settle, and it finds a place in my chest, rooted so permanently that I know it’s true. I love the game. It was my entire existence up until the day I ran into Corie Reynolds in the hallway of her brother’s place. I didn’t know it then, but it was at that moment, my world changed.
She’s my world now.
I’ve had a great run with the league, but it won’t keep me warm at night. The league won’t be there when I’m old and gray, sitting on the front porch watching my grandkids play in the yard. The league is no longer what makes me happy. There’s one woman who holds that honor, and I’ll be damned if her asshole ex is going to march in here and try to take her away from me.
Not that I think he could. But like I said, he doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as my girl.
The day moves on, and I don’t see Conner again. Good, maybe he’s gone. I make a mental note to talk to Anderson and tell him about my experience with Conner. Not just me, but Foster, too.
We both signed with him for the draft. The Rampage has always been my team. I grew up cheering for them, and this is where I wanted to play. I knew I’d be close to my family, and that was important to me.
On draft day, my uncle Tyler was coming back from the restroom and overheard Conner on the phone, telling the Rampage that I needed more money or wouldn’t sign. We’d already agreed on a contract, and everything was set in motion. I’d agreed to a four-year, thirty-eight-million-dollar deal. Apparently, Conner wanted more than that. He was gunning for fifty. He gets a cut, and the greedy bastard was trying for more.
Tyler told me what he overheard, and I called Coach Warner. I explained that Conner wasn’t negotiating for me but for him. I fired his ass as soon as I got off the call with Coach Warner, and two hours later, I went number one in the first round to the Rampage.