Jared is one of the best agents in sports. If we hadn’t needed to keep our family connection on the low, there’s no way I would have chosen Lloyd as my agent over him. Part of what makes Jared so good is his BS detector. He sees through bullshit excuses and lies from a mile away, but there’s no way I’m telling him I jeopardized my career over a girl, much less one I barely know.
“Same old shit, I guess. Just higher stakes.” I shrug. “We’ve been going at it for years. You know that.”
“You sure that’s all there is to it?” Jared asks. “He doesn’t live far away from here. You rehabbing at home doesn’t have anything to do with him, does it?”
Maybe subconsciously I did stay here with the hope of running into Iris, but I won’t make it happen. If our paths are supposed to cross again, they will. I have other things I want to accomplish while I’m sidelined.
“We need to talk about Elevation.” I’m hoping the abrupt change of subject will pull my stepbrother away from talk of Caleb. Thinking of her with him makes my head hurt worse than my leg does.
“Exactly what do we need to discuss?” Jared asks. “We’re in year one of our five-year plan. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“I don’t want to wait five years.” I plow my fingers through the tangled hair that’s longer than I typically wear it. “I have the capital. You have the expertise. Let’s get it off the ground.”
“We planned to wait until you had a few seasons under your belt.” Jared rubs the five o’clock shadow covering his jaw. “A little more credibility and time to focus.”
I gesture to my busted leg. “I don’t anticipate having more time than I do right now, and you have enough credibility for both of us,” I say. “You’re a great agent with a stellar reputation. And you understand sports marketing. You can start signing clients now. I think having my name associated with the company at this stage decreases credibility. We want these athletes to take Elevation seriously. Some rookie ball player anywhere near the helm wouldn’t reassure me. I’ll be a silent partner for now.”
“You may have a point,” Jared admits. “If you’re rehabbing here for the summer, where do I set up the office?”
“As far as I know, I’m still in San Diego, right?”
“Yeah, sure.” Jared’s face closes off, his agent’s mask falling into place.
“Bruh, what aren’t you telling me?” I ask.
“They’re already talking about using a disabled player exception,” Jared says. “They’re eyeing mid-level free agents who can take your place until your rehab is done. Especially if it ends up being more like a year than eight months.”
I drop my head into my hands. It’s pretty standard to find a temporary replacement when a high-dollar contract player like me is injured, but I’m barely out of surgery and they’re already doubting my comeback? Already working on a contingency?
I get it. That fall, this injury, reminded me of my own mortality. It shattered the illusion of invincibility that soaring through the air gives you. We may soar, but we land. Not always on our feet, and sometimes so awkwardly that our bones break.
“Well it sounds like I got something to prove,” I finally say, flashing Jared a determined smile. “Dr. Clive projected at least eight months before I’m game-ready, right?”
“Yeah, at least eight months.”
I nod decisively, smiling at the man who’s been a brother to me, blood notwithstanding. “Then I’ll do it in seven.”
Iris
“I unequivocally deny ever doing harm of any kind to my daughter.” My voice remains steady with truth, but my body trembles with outrage. “I would never.”
The social services case worker, Ms. Darling, scribbles on her little pad, her brows knitted and her lips thinned. She practically vibrates suspicion and disapproval.
“Who accused me of this?” Of course, I know it was Ramone, but I want to hear her say it.
She looks at me from behind the glare of her glasses, sharp eyes taking in everything from my hair to my tennis shoes, and moving back over me like she wants to make sure she didn’t miss anything.
“We maintain the anonymity of those who come forward to report suspected abuse,” she says.
“That’s not fair.” I press my palms to my thighs.
“It is when you have the child’s best interest at heart, which we do.”
“So do I.” I draw a deep breath. “I’m sure you can imagine as a parent who has never harmed my baby and would do anything to protect her, an accusation like this is really frustrating. Insulting, actually.”
“Iris, let’s just cooperate,” Caleb says from the bottom of the stairwell. He has Sarai in his arms, and she blinks at me sleepily.
“We woke her from her nap for this,” I tell Ms. Darling, my tone one-third apology and two-thirds accusation.
I shift on the couch, trying to get comfortable, searching for relief. I’m still raw and throbbing from Caleb’s invasion last night. I thought he would hit me, but apparently, he believed a gun to my head and shoved between my legs was enough to keep me in line.
He was not wrong.
For now. At least until I can get my journal back and start demolishing this wall of lies he’s trapped me in. My word against his isn’t enough to get me out of this.
My chest goes tight at the sight of Sarai in Caleb’s arms. I walk over and take her.
“Hey, princess.” I smile into her sleepy eyes. “Did we wake you up?”
She gurgles happily, even though her eyes are sleep-hazed. She’s such a happy baby, and I’m determined she’ll stay that way.
Ms. Darling’s face softens into that lady-putty women always melt into around Caleb. I get it. The shell is pretty impressive—six foot six inch, toned, tan, blond. The man is practically gilded. Not to mention those violet–blue eyes he’s passed onto our daughter. When you get to the center, though—when you peel back the golden overlay—at his core he’s nothing but a rotting side of meat. Spoiling and crawling with maggots. And I’m the lucky girl who gets to snuggle up to that every night.
“Mr. Bradley,” Ms. Darling breathes, her eyes admiring. “Thank you for bringing her down.”
“Please call me Caleb.” He adds the megawatt smile. “We want to get to the bottom of why anyone would say something like this about us.”
I roll my eyes. If I want to get to the bottom of anything, it’s the lies he and Ramone told to bring this woman here in the first place.
“Well technically,” Ms. Darling says, darting me a quick glance, “the complaint wasn’t filed against you. Just your fiancée.”
“I’m not his fiancée.”
The words spew out before I think better of them. The glacial look in Caleb’s eyes makes me wish I had kept my mouth shut, but my chin still tilts to a defiant angle.
“I’m sorry.” She looks at MiMi’s ring on my finger. “I thought—”
“No problem,” Caleb cuts in, smooth as a knife through butter. “We’re a family, the three of us. Natural mistake. What do you need to do? We want to cooperate fully.”