It was undeniably romantic, from the pastel bed spreads to the wispy white drapes; the room was fit for a princess. And the closet was big enough to fit both our meager wardrobes and an entire department store.
“Thank you,” Ellie said.
“Yes, thank you, Aunt Karen,” I said, remembering my manners.
She seemed to relax at that. “I’m sorry you couldn’t have your own rooms, but Charlotte is coming home for winter break soon.”
Charlotte was our cousin, and Aunt Karen’s only daughter. I didn’t know much about her other than the fact that she was a former beauty queen, and she was currently a senior at some Ivy League college on the East Coast. I’d seen a few framed pictures of her on the piano, and she was beautiful.
Mama had been quiet throughout most of the exchange, and I wondered if it was because she was tired. Or perhaps overwhelmed. My head was certainly spinning.
“We can’t thank you enough,” Ellie said. “You’ve been more than generous. We don’t want to be more of an imposition than we already are.”
“You’re not an imposition,” Aunt Karen said, placing her hand on Ellie’s arm. “I’m so glad to finally spend time with you. Though I do wish it were under different circumstances.”
Mama paled, and I knew the events of the day were getting to her. Packing up and moving across state, leaving behind our home, seeing Aunt Karen’s huge house. It was a lot to take in, especially after all she’d already been through.
Ellie turned to Mama, offering an arm to steady her. “If you’ll excuse us, Aunt Karen. I think Mama could use some rest.”
“Of course,” Aunt Karen said. “If you’re hungry, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Otherwise, we’ll look forward to seeing you for dinner at seven.”
Despite the wealth surrounding us and the sense of formality her statement conveyed, despite the fact that I hadn’t spent much time with my aunt, I felt close to her. I liked her.
Ellie escorted Mama to her room, and I retreated to ours. Alone at last, I spun around the space, taking it all in. Between the glittering chandelier, the plush carpet, the beautiful vanity, I felt like a princess. I flopped back onto one of the beds with a contented sigh.
“Pleased?” Ellie asked, closing the door behind her.
“Very.” I propped myself up on my elbows, watching as she busied herself with the task of unpacking.
Ellie was always busy, always fluttering around. She was never idle, and I often wondered where she got the energy. Sometimes it was nice to just be.
“Is Mama okay?” I asked.
“Just tired. It was a big day for her.”
I nodded. “Do you think she’ll be happy here?”
“I hope so,” Ellie said, pausing her movements. “I hope we’ll all be happy here.”
Ellie and I spent the rest of the afternoon talking and unpacking. It was the first time we’d been alone since Daddy’s funeral, and it was nice. Normal, in a way. If being surrounded by such splendor could be considered normal.
By the time seven o’clock rolled around, I was famished. Amy skipped down the staircase, the dogs at her heels. The rest of us followed after her though not with nearly as much enthusiasm.
Aunt Karen stood in the dining room, talking with a man I recognized as my uncle, Steve. I’d only ever seen him in pictures. Though apparently, I’d met him when I was two. He was tall and handsome, a bit like a movie star with his slicked back hair and dazzling smile. Where Aunt Karen was dressed in a pair of fitted jeans cuffed at the hem and a blousy shirt, he looked as if he’d just come from work. He was still in a suit, though he’d removed the jacket.
He gave Mama a light hug before turning his attention to us. After the introductions were made, we sat at the table, where the food was served family style.
“What do you think of Dallas?” Uncle Steve asked, scooping some mashed potatoes onto his plate before passing them to Amy.
“Honey,” Aunt Karen said, placing her hand on his arm. “They’ve only just arrived. They haven’t had time for sightseeing.”
“Right.” He chuckled and turned to Amy. “Well then, what’s on your list of things to do?”
She shrugged. “The pool looks pretty awesome.”
We all laughed, but Aunt Karen said, “Maybe in a month or two it will be warm enough to swim. What about you, Ellie?”
“I’m looking forward to working with Uncle Steve,” Ellie said.
Aunt Karen frowned. “There’s more to life than working,” she said, giving Uncle Steve’s hand a quick squeeze. “Surely there’s something fun you’d like to do.”
“Well, I would love to visit some of the art museums.”
“Excellent.” Aunt Karen clapped her hands together before turning her attention to me. “And what about you, Staci?”
“I can’t wait to explore the city, especially the live music scene.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she said, recognition lighting her eyes. “You’re a singer.”
I nodded, blush staining my cheeks.
“Have you ever considered posting videos of you singing online?” she asked, piquing my interest. “I only ask because Charlotte has a fairly popular YouTube channel for makeup tutorials. She’s been contacted by a number of companies for sponsored product reviews.”
“Wow.” I jerked my head back. “That’s incredible.”
Living in the country, I’d never spent much time on the internet. What was the point when a page took forever to load? Besides, I’d always preferred music and poetry to spending time on a device.
“Just search for her by name, and you’ll find it.” She took a sip of her water. “And if it’s something you’re interested in, I’m sure she’d be happy to give you some pointers when she comes home.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
The move to Dallas had opened my eyes in more ways than one. And it seemed as if there was a whole world out there I had yet to explore. I couldn’t wait.
Chapter Four
Brandon
I awoke with a start, bolting upright in bed. A sheen of sweat lined my skin, and my breath came in soft pants.
It’s not real. Not real. Not. Real.
I kept repeating the mantra over and over until I began to believe it. Maybe the dream wasn’t real, but it wasn’t too far off the mark either. The crash. The smell of smoke. The blood.
I groaned and pushed myself off the bed to glance at the time on my phone. Six o’clock. I needed a shower. I needed to clear my head. Practice would help—at least temporarily. But nothing erased the overwhelming sense of guilt, the devastating loss. And nothing ever would.
With an hour until I had to be at the stadium, I padded into my bathroom and switched on the shower. I pressed my palms to the counter, dropping my head as I waited for the water to heat up. When I lifted my eyes to face my reflection, the face staring back at me was that of a stranger. My cheeks were sunken, my eyes hollow. But that’s what happened when my sleep was invaded by nightmares, images from the past coming back to haunt me. And I knew I deserved it—craved it even, as penance for the wrongs I’d committed.
This was the real Brandon James. I wasn’t a heartbreaker; I was a monster. A murderer.
Looking at me, no one would ever guess what lie beneath the charming exterior, the playboy façade. All they saw was the Eagles’ tight end, the player, the billionaire. And why wouldn’t they? It was the lie I fed the world to protect myself. A lie I was beginning to tire of, though I saw no way to escape it. With a heavy sigh, I climbed beneath the spray of water, hoping the warmth would drive the chill from my heart.
When I arrived at the stadium, the locker room was already humming with activity. Most of the coaches were still in meetings, but players and trainers buzzed around, preparing to start weight lifting.
Tristan took one look at me, and cringed. “You look terrible.”
“Good morning to you, too,” I teased, double-checking that my phone was on silent before shutting my locke
r.
“No, man, I mean it. Are you feeling okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
“I’m fine.” I didn’t mean to snap at him, but I didn’t want to talk about it. I never wanted to talk about it.
He held up his hands as if in surrender. “Okay. But if you do, you know I’m always here.”
I nodded. I knew that, and I appreciated the offer even if I didn’t intend to take him up on it.
“What do you think of that new play coach wants us to run?” I asked, needing to steer the conversation away from me.
“I think it’ll be good.” I fell into step beside him as we headed for the weight room. “Philly has a strong passing game. But we can outrun them.”
I nodded, pushing the door open and allowing him to pass. “I think you’re right.”
“Good morning,” Coach Sanders said, entering the weight room.
Conversation died down as we awaited our orders for the day. He started pairing players off and assigning stations.
“Brandon and…” He glanced down at his tablet where the names were displayed. “Nash.”
Great, I thought. Just what I needed today of all days. I was never in the mood to deal with Nash’s attitude, but especially not after the night I’d had. I just wanted to power through my sets and be done, not field his annoying banter.
“Let’s go,” I said to him, heading toward the barbells. Deadlifts were up first.
I set up the equipment in silence. Most of the guys on the team were talking, but not us. Fortunately, there was a decent bit of background noise, so I didn’t feel the need to make conversation.
I started my first set, mentally counting out the reps as I powered through. When I finished, I stepped aside, curious to see how much weight Nash would add, if any. He added another ten-pound plate to each side before securing them and stepping into position.
It was clear he was straining, but I was impressed nevertheless. Not that I’d ever admit it to him. With his set finished, he dropped the barbell to the ground and grunted.
He grabbed a towel as he passed. “Not very talkative today.”
My shoulders tightened. We’d made it through one set. One. Without him running his mouth.
“Guess not.” I took my place on the padded mat, bending down to grab the barbell.
I was on my third rep when Nash stepped closer. “Turn your feet out a hair, and it will take some of the strain off your knee.”
“I think I know how to do a deadlift properly,” I ground out, aggravated by his comment.
Could he tell my knee was aching? I thought I’d been doing a pretty good job of hiding my pain, but maybe not. I didn’t like showing weakness, especially not in front of Nash. I didn’t trust him not to use it to his advantage.
“You’d think so, considering how old you are.” He smirked as he passed me, switching places so he could perform his set. “But apparently there’s always room for improvement.”
“If you want to talk about room for improvement—” I said, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms over my chest. “Let’s talk about your technique on the field.”
“What about it?” he asked, though I detected a slight wobble in his voice.
“You rely too much on your speed and size.”
He glanced up at me, his brown eyes meeting mine as he prepared to grip the barbell. “What’s wrong with that? You have to play to your strengths. And I’m big and fast.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Yeah, but why expend unnecessary energy?”
“Well, what do you suggest?” he asked, grunting out his second rep. I was surprised by how receptive he seemed to my opinion.
“Stick your foot in the ground, plant, and then shift your hips in the direction you want to turn. I think you’ll find it more effective.”
He set the barbell on the ground and wiped his face with his towel. “Thanks. That’s actually a good tip.”
“Sure,” I said, removing some of the plates on the barbell for our next exercise.
“See,” Nash said. “Now that’s how you accept constructive criticism.”
My shoulders tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re always so defensive, man. So uptight. If you’d listen to me, maybe we could help each other.”
I considered it for a moment, but then I picked up the barbell so I wouldn’t have to talk to him anymore. The kid had talent, but he also had an attitude. If he could get that in check and stop calling me old man, then maybe we could talk.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, and with every rep, every play we ran, I pushed myself to the breaking point. By the time practice ended, my limbs felt like they were made of jelly and my knee was aching. But I felt good, tired. It was the kind of bone-deep tired that blocked out thoughts of anything else. Which was exactly what I needed.
“Wow,” Tristan said, patting me on the back as we headed for the showers. “You really pushed it out there today. I have a feeling you might regret it tomorrow.”
I smirked. “I always push it. No pain no gain.”
“Yeah, but—” He shook his head. “You were like a man possessed on the field.”
I lifted a shoulder before swiping on a layer of deodorant. “Worried you can’t keep up?”
“With you?” He lifted his chin, puffing out his chest. “Never.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Where are you headed?” he asked as I pulled a clean jersey over my button-down shirt. “Hot date?” He arched an eyebrow. Tristan loved to tease me about my playboy image, even though we both knew I was anything but.
“Charity event,” I said.
“Oh yeah?”
I understood his surprise. Typically, we reserved charity events and appearances for the off-season. Once the pre-season started, we were usually so busy with meetings and practice and recovery to focus on anything but football. But I’d made an exception when I’d heard Jacob’s story. And Coach Sanders had readily agreed to my request to leave practice early.
“Yeah. Wish Makers request.”
“Oh,” he said, and I knew from his somber tone that he understood. Everyone did.
Wish Makers was a non-profit organization that helped children with terminal illnesses fulfill their dying wish. It might be swimming in a pool of Goldfish crackers or meeting a celebrity, but the organization moved heaven and earth to make it happen. I was honored that Jacob’s wish was a meeting with me. And I couldn’t wait to meet the incredible little boy.
“Hey,” Tristan said, turning to face me as he tied his shoes. “Have you heard anything about your contract?”
I stilled, my mind jumping back to my conversation with Scott. Settle down. Play their game. Seal the deal.
“No. Why?” I finally asked without meeting his eyes.
“No reason,” he said. “It’s just getting late in the season, and I figured it might be weighing on you. That’s all.”
“It is,” I admitted, though I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the rest.
“I’m sure they’ll renew it,” he said.
I wished I felt the same confidence. I’d devoted the past seven years of my life to this team. I wasn’t ready for my career to end, especially not for such a superficial reason.
“You and Nash get on okay today?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”
“I saw you two talking. And you only looked like you wanted to kill him half the time. What was up with that?” He grinned.
“We traded some lifting and performance tips,” I said, shutting my locker.
“Don’t mess with me man.” He pushed off the bench to stand.
I chuckled. “I’m not.”
“I thought you hated the guy. Why would you help him?”
I turned to face him. “Helping him, helps the team. He has potential. He just needs to work on that attitude.”
“Wow. I’m proud of you.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Maybe
they should rename you the Saint.”
I rolled my eyes. “Har. Har. This coming from the man known as the Monk.”
He shrugged. “We both know nicknames aren’t one-hundred-percent accurate.”
“In your case it certainly is.” Tristan was always so serious, so reserved. His life was dedicated to the sport he loved. And his devotion to it had earned him the fitting moniker.
“We can’t all be heartbreakers.” He winked, referring to my own nickname.
“I prefer the term heartthrob.”
He chuckled. “I bet you do. You might have to change your current strategy if that’s what you want to be known as.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I strode toward the door, waving without looking back. “See you tomorrow.”
“See ya,” Tristan called.
I glanced at my phone, checking the time as I strode through the labyrinth of tunnels beneath the stadium. It had only been a few days since my talk with Scott, but already, I was feeling the pressure. Whether it was Nash’s critique or Tristan’s questions about my contract, the uncertainty of my place on the team weighed heavily on my mind. The season was drawing to a close and though I’d played well, I worried it wouldn’t be enough.
My phone dinged with a new incoming text message from Scott with a link to a news article. I opened the article, which was a piece about the new league initiative to cater more to families. The league and owners around the nation were working to lower ticket prices to make the game more accessible. There was also discussion about scandalous news stories about players and how the league was offering more support and education to athletes to help prevent these issues.
His message was clear: the clock’s ticking.
Chapter Five
Staci
“Wow. You have to see this,” I said, staring at the laptop screen where my cousin Charlotte was in the midst of applying her concealer and foundation. It was both fascinating, and oddly mesmerizing.
“See what?” Ellie asked.
She hung up her suit jacket before coming to join me on the bed. The laptop rested on my thighs, and my eyes were glued to the screen.
Catching the Billionaire Page 3