“Fine, I’ll say it. You got everything you wanted. You didn’t want my brothers on the team, so you made sure Kayla Carville acquired them. You win.”
“I repeat: huh?”
“Don’t act dumb, Coop! You’re a selfish tool, but you’re not dumb. You orchestrated this whole thing so you could get what you wanted. We’re probably not even signing Colt Spencer, are we?”
“No, we’re not.” Her mouth opens, like she’s speechless. “But it’s not what you’re saying! I didn’t tell Kayla to get your brothers! And it’s not my fault we’re not picking up Colt! The guy’s an idiot, and all I did was show Doug?—”
“You already talked to Doug? You are the most breathtakingly selfish man I’ve ever met! What was the point of us even spending that entire night working on the roster?”
“We were doing our job!”
“Iwas!Youwere playing me!”
“I wasn’t playing you. And I still have no idea what’s going on!”
She sputters. “I can’t believe I thought we had something real. I can’t believe I wanted tokissyou.”
My ears perk up. “You wanted to kiss me? I knew it.”
“How can you be cocky at a time like this?”
“Because I don’t know what time it is!”
She shakes her head in tiny, rapid movements, breathing like she’s trying to get her anxiety under control. I should feel sympathy for whatever she’s going through, but I’m too confused, too annoyed, and too …angry,frankly.
“I cannot get you to the airport fast enough,” Liesel says.
“No, you can’t,” I agree.
“If I have to be stuck in this car with you for another minute, I’m going to scream.”
She takes her eyes off the road for only a second, so I see the red taillights in front of us a split second before she does.
“Look out!” I yell.
Liesel slams on her brakes to keep from colliding with the other car. She skids, one tire hitting ice, the others grippingthe road. The motion causes her to fishtail a few feet, but she manages to stop before crashing. She’s at an odd angle, taking up most of the lane. But at least she stopped a few inches shy of the car in front of us.
“Nice save,” I grumble.
Red brake lights stretch before us as far as the eye can see. The visibility isn’t great, but it’s enough to show me that all three lanes going our direction are at a total standstill.
“Look up the traffic on your phone,” she says.
“Maybe don’t tell me what to do,” I say, even as I do as I’m told. But only because I was going to, anyway. I pull up my maps app and groan painfully.
“There’s an accident up a half mile. The road is closed.”
“WHAT?”
She throws the Prius in park and grabs my phone from me, reading the user-generated comments about the crash.
“‘Multi-car pileup ahead. Expect a long wait.’ ‘All lanes blocked. Avoid if possible!’ ‘Just passed the scene. Looks like a semi jackknifed. At least 20 cars involved.’ ‘A bus is blocking the exit ramp—no way out!’ ‘It’s going to be a cold night. Stay safe.’”
She drops my phone into my lap, looking shell shocked.
“Time to scream,” I say.
“What?“
