Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
"Don't be foolish," he says. "We've discussed this before. They'll renew your contract for another three years, and the current offer is double your current salary. You're only twenty-eight; you have plenty of seasons ahead of you."
“I already have more money than I can ever hope to spend.” Money isn’t everything. “I’m not going back, Norton.”
“Don’t be a fucking idiot—”
“Let the Riptide know they need to look for a new quarterback.” I make sure the tone of my voice matches the seriousness I’m feeling.
Before he can get another word in, I hang up and slip the phone into my pocket. I don’t feel bad at all. I’ve spent too many years in hotels and training camps, always praying I don’t have a career-ending injury or an injury that ruins the rest of my life.
Garrett, my brother-in-law, came home to Silver Spoon Falls after an NFL career to coach at the local high school, and he doesn’t miss his professional career one bit. In my heart, I know I’m making the right decision in following my own path.
The phone rings again, its shrill tone cutting through the silence. Damn it. He’s going to keep calling, but nothing will change my resolve. I'm staying in Silver Spoon Falls, right here with my soulmate.
I wander through the cozy rooms, calling her name. Each echo bounces off the walls as I wonder where she could have vanished to. The soft glow of the late afternoon sun spills through the windows, casting gentle shadows that dance across the wooden floors, but there’s no sign of her.
The coffee's brewed and steaming in the pot, but there’s no sign of Maggie. My head starts spinning, but I tell myself she’s around here somewhere. I open the door to the garage.
Fuck.
She’s gone. The driveway’s empty. Motherfucker. I grab my phone and dial her number, but it goes straight to voicemail. The knot in my stomach tightens, and my pulse is through the roof.
I dial her number again with the same results.
A few minutes later, another text comes through, and I glance down, expecting to see my agent’s name but it’s an unknown number. I open the text and read.
Unknown
Dumbfuck.
It’s probably one of the team executives. I guess Norton let them know.
Me
I appreciate the opportunities I’ve had with the Riptide, but I’m ready to move on to something different.
There, that should be vague yet convincing.
Unknown
Huh?
Me
Norton contacted you
Unknown
Who’s Norton?
Fuck me. I’ve just announced my intention to retire from the NFL to some stranger. Could this day get any worse?
Me
You must have the wrong number
Unknown
Nope. You’re the soon-to-be motherfucker who hurt my sister.
Me
Who is this?
Unknown
Silas. Dipshit
Fucking hell. I guess the day could get worse.
Me
How did I hurt Maggie?
I send the message then decide I need to fuck with him a little bit.
Me
The last time I saw, her I was blowing her mind in the shower
Unknown
Get over to my house and straighten this shit out while I drink enough to drive that vision out of my mind.
I leap into the truck, my heart pounding with urgency, and push the pedal to the floor, disregarding every speed limit in my path. The engine roars as I navigate the winding roads, my mind focused solely on reaching her. Every fiber of my being screams that I have to fucking fix whatever drove her away. I can't bear to live without her. The world blurs around me, each second stretching into eternity as I race to her.
I speed down the road that leads to my family’s ranch. My gut twists in rhythm with the pain hammering through my chest. When the familiar sprawl comes into view, the tears start falling. I drive past the main house and head straight to Silas’ house. I rush up to the door and knock impatiently. When my brother pulls the door open, I fall into his arms, crying into his freshly pressed shirt.
"Whoa now, Magpie. What happened?" Silas closes the door behind us. The question tightens my throat, and all I can manage is another strangled wail. I bury my face deeper against him, wishing I could crawl back in time to before any of this was even a thought. He half-carries, half-drags me into the living room.
Silas’ place is a museum of sports memorabilia mixed with the typical bachelor pad furnishings. I'm leaking tears all over my twin, and he still grips me tight like he's trying to physically hold me together. He slides a box of tissues my way while pulling his phone from his pocket.
I lean against him, crying my eyes out while he calls Hudson.
"Get to my house now," Silas growls, his voice a low rumble, before abruptly ending the call.
Within minutes, the front door flies open with a loud bang, and Hudson rushes inside, his eyes wide with urgency. "What the fuck happened?" he demands, his voice sharp with concern as he drops down beside me, offering a reassuring pat on my knee.