Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
I need one minute of peace and a bubble bath. Too bad that won’t happen anytime soon.
“No, Trevor,” I repeat for the tenth time since answering his call. “I’m not going to ask Deshawn’s doctor those kinds of questions. If you want answers, you can ask her. My job is to be supportive. Not pushy.”
Irritation leaks through the phone. “It is your job, Turner. You need to remember you’re not his mother.”
“I’m not acting like his mother. I—”
“Fine,” he interrupts. “His babysitter.”
That’s ironic considering the only toddler I work with is him. Trevor’s refusal to understand that asking Deshawn’s doctor to speed up the physical therapy process because of his impending contract renewal is not only unhelpful, but fucking disgusting.
“Deshawn is focusing on recovery. Reminding him about the upcoming season and everything that’s at stake won’t be helpful. He’s already worried that he won’t be ready by preseason. I’m not going to add to his stress.”
He scoffs. “I hoped after your win with the golden boy, you’d realize this job is about money. Agents who care too much about feelings and emotions never have fruitful careers.”
Gritting my teeth, I look up at the sky. “There’s nothing wrong with caring about my client.”
Shit.
“Your client?” A beat of silence passes before he barks a laugh. “Miller is not your client. He’s mine. Do you hear me? My clients belong to me. All you do is answer emails and do the work I don’t have time for.”
If that’s true, then he should do it on his own. That would save me six hours a day.
But since I can’t afford to get fired, I reluctantly nod. “Got it.”
“Good. When you get back to the office, there’s a lot I need you to do.”
I block out the rest of his rant and start my walk back to Permian.
My midday excursion wasn’t planned, but the break from the office was needed.
After a surprising call from Simon Godfrey, who’s very serious about working with me in the future, I sat on hold for over an hour with Clear Lake University for Cade’s degree.
Annoyingly, no one got back with me. Then Holly and Victoria invited me to brunch to discuss their ongoing soccer season.
During brunch, Mom called to say she saw the photos of me with Cade before the All-Star Game’s red carpet.
With yet another reminder from her that I have no time for anything but work, Deshawn texted and asked if I could make it to physical therapy.
Life has always been busy, but it kicked into overdrive after returning from Atlanta a week ago. More phone calls. More meetings. More endorsement and sponsorship discussions.
Less sleep. Less rest. Less of everything that isn’t work.
Sarabeth says my meds can only do so much, and the amount of stress I’m putting my body through isn’t doing me or my PCOS any favors. The cystic pimple on my chin, fatigue, sweet cravings, and painful cramps from hell prove that.
For someone who has never taken a day off, I’d kill for one.
“Dogan with the Grizzlies is entering free agency soon. Put out some feelers to see who would be interested in signing him. Need that by the end of the day.”
I barely stifle a whimper as a cramp rolls through my abdomen. “Be back in thirty.”
He hangs up and leaves me alone to deal with my pain.
When I made the decision to walk instead of drive earlier, it seemed like a great idea.
Plus, I knew Sarabeth would be proud of my post-meal walk.
Feeling the wind in my hair and all that jazz seemed nice, but now I’m dealing with the consequences of my actions.
The snail crawling on the sidewalk beside me is moving faster than I am. Only two miles until I’m—
“Agent Shay?”
Mother. Fucker.
I didn’t think it was possible for today to get any worse.
And when did I stop hating that nickname?
The pain in my stomach fades slightly when the lips I kissed a week ago curve into a smile. Like a coward, I’ve been avoiding Cade, but we both know why. I broke a rule and kissed the man I can’t have.
Behind him, an Audi blares its horn, but he pays them no mind. “Need a ride?”
I study the hill in front of me. It’s either walk in excruciating pain or get a ride from the one person I shouldn’t be alone with. But I’m not in the mood to play with the human body.
“Sure. To the office, please,” I say. Cade leans over to manually unlock the passenger door, and I can’t help but laugh. “It’s been years. When are you going to get the locks fixed?”
“If I fix something on Betsy, another thing breaks, so I’m stuck with funky locks.” Worry creases his brow. “Are you sure about going to the office? You don’t look so good.”
“Gee.” I click on my seatbelt. “Thanks.”
A low laugh slips out as he studies me. “You know that’s not what I meant, Shay. As always, you’re beautiful.” He pauses long enough to make my cheeks heat, but when he continues, I straighten. “You were walking like you were hurting. Let me take you home.”
Ignoring the way my pain sharpens at being acknowledged, I point in the direction of Permian. “No. Bad PCOS day. Nothing I can’t handle.”
The impatient honks shift into unrelenting wails as Cade continues to sit idly in the road. “Have you eaten today? What are you drinking?”
“Yes, and spearmint tea. You need to drive before you get rear-ended.”
His brow wrinkles. “I thought you hated tea.” As if we’re not blocking the road, he turns to search through his backseat. “I don’t care about them. I care about you. Want some dark chocolate chips?”
Like a dog trained to a bell, my mouth salivates. “You have some?”
A plastic bag drops onto my lap, and once he’s buckled, he finally pushes the car into drive and waves politely at the asshole behind him.
“I stopped by the grocery store earlier. They’re not frozen, but eat as many as you want.
I read online that dark chocolate can reduce inflammation in people with PCOS. ”
My eyes fly to him. Sarabeth loves dark chocolate being part of my daily routine for that reason.
I should ask why he was researching PCOS, but I can’t handle hearing his answer.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Then, in an unladylike fashion, I shove a handful into my mouth and moan. Manners be damned. “This is what I needed. Now I’m ready to get this damn promotion.”
“Promotion? You’re up for a promotion?”
Closing the bag, I nod. “An internal one, but yeah. Me against all the other junior agents. All I have to do is submit a letter of intent to my supervisor, along with my personnel file.”
“If that’s the case, you’re definitely going to get it.”
His certainty buoys my response. “I hope so. Part of me is scared to apply, which is probably why I haven’t started my letter of intent.”
Working with athletes is all I want to do, but being a woman in this business is like running through a field of landmines. One wrong step could end my career. Being romantically linked to a player, especially one who’s my client, might ruin everything for me. Which is why I have to stay focused.
But my focus goes hazy as our elbows brush on the center console.
You weak woman.
“You know there are a lot of things I love about you, right?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for a response. “Picking a favorite seems impossible, but if I had to, I’d say it’s that you always reach for the stars. And no matter what, you find a way to make it there. Every single time.”
His words knock the wind right out of me. “Is that really what you think of me?”
“Amongst many other things.” The car sputters as he makes a right turn. “Nothing slows you down when you want something. Shayzilla’s your nickname for a reason, but even in normal Shay mode, you’re driven, passionate, and aren’t afraid to do things scared.”
When I started my degree plan, I ignored the doubt from my professors and classmates. When I decided to be a multi-sport agent, I refused to listen to Trevor’s criticism. When I realized I wanted to be with Cade, I let go of the fear of not being able to control our hearts.
And I did those things while terrified.
I blink fast, willing the sting in my eyes to settle. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. It’s just the truth.” The veins in his hand pop as his grip tightens around the steering wheel. “I’m guessing all this stress is why we haven’t talked since we got back from Atlanta. Or have you been avoiding me because you regret the kiss?”
The sadness in his voice pierces me, and I’m the reason for it. As someone who was so hurt when he didn’t communicate his feelings and fears to me, I did the same thing.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve talked to you.” Turning in the seat, I face him. “I’m scared more than anything, but I don’t regret it, Cade. I just don’t want to ruin our partnership.”
His relief is immediate and palpable. “I promise kissing won’t.”
“One kiss,” I argue. “We agreed on one last kiss.”
“Nope. All I said was that I would try my best.” Stopping at a red light, he finally looks at me.
There’s a tiny tremor to his hand as it travels across the center console and hooks a braid behind my ear.
“I never believed I could get you out of my system, and that kiss proved it. But I’ll follow your lead. I know what this job means to you.”
Something snaps inside me at that. It was na?ve to think I could get him out of my system.
Finally, we pull into Permian’s parking lot. I made it through the entire drive without leaping over the center console and into his lap.
Go me.
The minivan rattles as it bounces over a speed bump, but the choked grunt Cade releases sounds even more painful. It’s too low and strained for my liking. I should be more concerned that I’m in his car at my job, but my focus is trained on the way he’s gripping his upper thigh.
“What’s wrong?” I ask when he maneuvers into a parking spot.
His muttered nothing comes out too fast to be true. It only takes a short staredown for him to acquiesce, and he schools his pinched expression. “My hip gets tight sometimes.”
Bile rushes up my throat. “I knew it. I knew I noticed a limp.”
“When?”
“Our first game as agent and client.”
A smile cracks through his grimace. “I hate how well you know me.”
“You’re going to hate what I have to say even more.” I manually unlock the passenger door. “Talk to a trainer soon, okay? I know it’s hard, but it’s better to miss a few games than ruin the rest of your season. You’re more than your job.”
Cade’s brows scrunch in that stubborn way I’m familiar with. Missing games may feel like the worst thing in the world, but Cade needs to put himself first. Not the golden boy who feels like he needs to perform no matter what.
The clenched fist at his side tells me he won’t be saying a word to anyone, so I turn to leave.
“Before you go,” he says, stopping me, “I have something for you.” He relaxes his hand and digs into his pocket, pulling out my dice.
I smile. “Am I finally getting them back?”
“Never. I need them more than you know.” Then he lifts a dainty chain between his large fingers. “When I saw this at the pawnshop, I knew I wanted you to have it. Since you’re always on the phone, this wristlet thingy reminded me of you.”
Tiny hearts, flowers, and beads in the prettiest shades of pink and orange are pressed against my palm.
My clients occasionally surprise me with small tokens of appreciation.
Holly fuels my caffeine addiction with mugs.
Brett gifts me a stress ball every time we meet to counteract the chaos.
Lionel loves personalizing office supplies for me.
Victoria buys me books about badass women in sports.
Delilah sends postcards from whatever country she’s in.
Still, it’s hard to accept a gift from the client I kissed last week.
Regretfully, I hand it back. “I can’t accept a gift—”
“Don’t think of it as a gift.” Strong hands carefully fold my fingers around the beads. “Think of it as a reminder to do it scared.”
Our eyes meet, and I wonder if he knows how hard I’m struggling to stay in my seat.
Pulling my hand back, I hold on tight to the not-gift and swing open the door. “Thanks for the ride, Cade. And the reminder.”
His lips lift into that small smile I’ve always loved. “Anytime, Agent Shay. And take a breather sometime. In the words of my genius agent, you’re more than your job.”
That gets a real laugh out of me, and I close the door before he hears.
Our conversation follows me through the parking lot, up the stairs, and into my office. Trevor’s demands can wait for a little bit longer.
It’s time to write my letter of intent.