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An absentee God.
No.
I don’t accept that.
All of this could be just a terrible mistake.
That’s it.
It’s just a mistake.
Determined to set the hospital straight, I finally turn my car key, the engine purring to life within seconds. But just as I drive in the direction of Mass General, fear’s cruel, cold fingers wrap themselves around my throat, tightening its grip when I see up ahead what caused this morning’s traffic.
‘There’s been a car crash.’
My heart races as I drive sluggishly past the site of a horrifying crash, as I see a familiar silver Aston Martin completely totaled. The mangled metal and shattered glass surrounding the area paint a stark image of the violence of the collision that must have taken place not even an hour ago. The flashing lights of the police cars illuminate the scene, casting an eerie glow on the debris scattered across the road. If the sight of the wreckage wasn’t confirmation enough, then the ungodly amount of blood splattered all over the white leather upholstery of the driver’s seat is.
No one could have walked out of that alive.
No one.
Which means that all that awaits me at the hospital isn’t hope.
It’s a body bag.
Six months earlier
Chapter 1
Piper
I don’t even try to stifle a yawn as Ethan Flynn continues to rant about his latest achievement in signing the newitclient, Henri ‘The Wall’ Girard, to his agency—and my agency’s biggest competitor—ProStar Athlete Representation.
Unable to shake my boredom away, my fingers begin to tap impatiently against my champagne flute, needing to divert my attention to anything else than listen to another second of his self-celebratory speech.
But Ethan doesn’t make it easy for me or his chosen audience to drift their focus off him. The volume of his boisterous voice seems to increase and become more animated as he rambles on, claiming to have surpassed all his agency’s expectations with such a coveted signing, resembling a peacock flaunting its feathers. My mind begs to wander, desperately yearning for an escape from his self-centered monologue. Still, it seems that I haven’t beenoohingandaahingon cue like he expected, urging him to remedy that fact by calling me out on it.
“You’re awfully quiet, Piper. I hope that my success story hasn’t intimidated you into taking a vow of perpetual silence,” he teases, hiding his slight smirk from the rest of the small group of people around us by taking a sip of his champagne.
“Oh, you know what they say? If it’s not nice, then why say it? Silence is golden after all,” I goad back mockingly. “Though it’s a shame how the virtue is lost on some people. Not everyone is so self-aware to know that sometimes silence is preferable to the sound of their own voice.”
Though his beard covers most of it, no amount of facial hair could completely hide the burning crimson now tinging his cheeks.
“Point taken,” he retorts gruffly after making a show of clearing his throat. “I guess I did get a little carried away telling everyone about how I managed to sign Henri to ProStar. But then again, I always heard that a person should celebrate their wins, no matter how small. Though, let’s call a spade a spade. Every agency in the country was salivating to get him to sign on the dotted line. I must have done something right for him to prefer my agency’s representation and not, say, ESA’s. So excuse me if I enjoy the moment a little longer. It’s not every day I get one past the great and talented Piper Lee.”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes at the cocky bastard.
We get it.
You’rethatgood.
But guess what?
So am I.
I just don’t feel the need to tell everyone and gloat about it.
I’ll admit to one thing, though. Ethan does have one advantage over me—he can spend this whole night mingling with everyone in the room, bragging about how great a sports agent he is, and no one would think less of him for it.
