AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My feet carry me toward the street again, the noise of traffic and conversation entering the bubble of quiet that was Clay and me.
“Just went to visit Coach. He’ll be out of hospital in a few days.”
“You’re still in Denver.” That knowledge lifts my spirits, though I can’t place why. “How long are you staying?”
“I’m not sure. A few days more. For Coach.”
“That’s great,” I say and mean it—both that Coach’s condition is improving and that Clay is there with him.
It has nothing to do with the fact that I want to see him again.
I lean against the brick wall, thinking only of the man on the other end of the call. “Annie Jamieson and Tyler Adams are the most amazing couple. I don’t know how they survive all the pressure and still seem well adjusted.”
“You get their secret, you let me know.” I smile, and I picture him doing the same.
He clears his throat. “When are you coming back?”
He means to Denver, but for a second, I imagine he means something else.
“Tomorrow.”
“You need a care package for the plane? Say the word and there’ll be a bottle of tequila waiting.”
My lips curve.
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
12
CLAY
“It’s a good offer, Clay. A great offer,” my agent says over the phone as I finish my set of bench presses.
“Three years,” I say as I wipe off the equipment, then I move over to the treadmill.
I’ve always used a private gym or the Kodiaks’ one, but since I’m still in Denver, I’m using the communal gym in my condo building.
I kept the place because it seemed like more of a hassle to sell it, and it wasn’t a priority. But for the moment, I’m glad I did.
A guy wearing expensive workout clothes crosses to the bench press, poking at the plates on either side.
“Twenty a year,” Dee confirms.
I hit both the incline and speed buttons at once, the belt whirring as it catches up to the pace I want.
“Even if we both know you’re not going to command the max salary, you’re still expensive. Teams don’t have enough contract space to sign a player like you with the season already underway. Their budgets are committed.”
The gym has a bank of windows with a mountain view on a clear day. It’s like a crack of light into the dark place I’ve been living in for the past few months.
I grimace at myself in the mirror as I run, hitting the up button again so the speed increases until my knee registers a complaint.
“It’s also New York. Excellent quality of life. You’d be close to Kat, could visit on the weekends.”
“They’re not a contender,” I point out.
“No one can win every year.”
If I take the gig, these could be my final years. They’d be comfortable but not sensational. I’d be trading living on the edge for safety, security.
