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That seems difficult considering the “assault” happened because of my relationship. But I reply, “Okay. I’ll try.”
“Do more than try, Corey,” she tells me firmly. “Your position on the team depends on this.”
26
COREY
It may be a Saturday,but the Lonestars headquarters is buzzing with activity. And it’s all thanks to me.
I step out of the elevator at the top floor where Charles Wilson’s office is located. Coach Hawk stands across the elevator doors, waiting for me with arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Coach.”
“Johnson.” His gaze dips to my hand. “Are you injured?”
“No.”
“Thank Christ for that.” His arms fall to his side. “Do you have a plan on what you’re telling Wilson?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let’s get this over with.”
I follow the team manager to a conference room filled with people I don’t recognize, and a few I do. Carlee and her boss are here. So is the owner’s son, CJ. The rest are a collection of legal representatives if I had to guess.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I sit down at the end of the table, opposite Charles Wilson. I take a quick look and see my agent, Gary’s, text. He doesn’t want me to speak with anyone until he arrives. He and his wife were on a weekend getaway atthe coast when yesterday’s news broke. I told him not to cancel his trip to come here. Clearly, he didn’t listen.
I appreciate his dedication and willingness to go out of his way to help me, but I’m not waiting. I don’t want to delay whatever consequence is coming my way.
Besides, I’m already seated at the table. It’s too late to delay this conversation now.
I slide the device back into my pocket with a silent apology to the man who helped make my career and look at the owner of the Lonestars. He sits at the head of the table between his son and Coach Hawk. Carlee sits next to her boss to my right, but I make a conscious decision not to look her way.
“Johnson,” Mr. Wilson greets, leaning back in his chair. “How are you this morning?”
“I’ve been better.” I can hear Gary’s voice in my head telling me I should add a ‘sir’ to my reply, but I can’t. I reserve the respectful title for men who’ve proven themselves worthy of respect. Just having enough money to own the team I play for doesn’t count.
“I imagine so.” Wilson’s lips turn down, and he abandons his easy-going façade. “Care to explain yourself?”
Here we go.
“The man I hit was harassing Carlee Jones. I warned him to leave. He didn’t. You know the rest.”
The owner’s eyes narrow as they shift onto Carlee. “And why were you in the position to defend Ms. Jones?”
“We live in the same building.”
A gray brow lifts. “Is that it?”
I keep my expression flat. “It is.”
“Are you sure this has nothing to do with the history between you two?”
My muscles tense. “I don’t know what you mean?” I barely stop myself from looking at Carlee.
Charles laces his fingers together, resting his elbows on the chair’s armrests. “It’s my understanding that you two grew up in the same town. And you’re friends with Ms. Jones’s brother, Carter Jones, isn’t that right?”
Relief flows through me. The Lonestars owner isn’t accusing us of a romantic relationship. But I’m not out of the woods yet. “Yes, Carter is my friend.”
