Chapter 2 #2
Her blue eyes rolled again. “Fortunately, if you’re lying, it’s out of your system relatively fast. If you’re telling the truth, a drug test will clear it all up.
Unfortunately,” she walked around the counter and grabbed a newspaper, slapping it onto the marble and sliding it my way.
“—it’s on the front page of every local newspaper.
So, negative drug test or not, you’re kind of fucked. The optics aren’t great here.”
Shit.
“Contractually, if the drug test is negative, you should be fine. But given your track record recently, you might have a suspension on the table. Seven games. Camille says she has a plan, but she won’t fill me in until we get to the office, so your guess is as good as mine.”
“Pip. Take a breath.”
She turned and threw me a less-than-satisfied look over her shoulder as she walked to one of the many cabinets in her kitchen to grab a coffee mug. Given the lack of sugar, milk, and whipped cream, I guessed it was for me.
I’d resisted my pull to her for so long, but I was still ashamed of the amount of willpower it took not to watch her ass as she moved in those tight leggings.
“There’s no time, Rhys. I can’t even sue the newspaper for libel because of that gem right there.” She slid the coffee cup in my direction, then tapped on the picture of my face plastered on the front cover as if I didn’t see it the first time.
I cringed as I stared down at the photo, showing a wide smile spread across my face, beaming at some guy who stood next to me.
Our hands were raised to high-five, a woman dressed in little-to-no clothing draped across my lap with a line of white powder on her ass. The evidence was extremely damning.
I groaned, sinking into one of the barstools at her counter, burying my face in my hands.
Truthfully, I couldn’t care less if the public’s perception of me changed. They could act like they knew me all they wanted, feign disappointment, or act as if they knew I should have known better. But what I truly cared about was her perception of me changing.
I could handle being a disappointment to the public. Sloane’s disappointment? Absolutely not.
“Sloane,” I paused to brace myself, looking up and expecting to find the same stern eyes that pierced through me last night. I was surprised to be greeted with much kinder, softer ones.
“Everyone makes mistakes, Rhys.”
I swallowed the lump of emotion in my throat, feeling entirely undeserving of her kindness, but grateful for it nonetheless.
“I just—I'm sorry for a lot more than last night,” I said softly, toying with the warm mug in my hands.
All she did was shrug. “What are best friends for?”
I smiled, nodding a couple of times. “Best one I ever had.”
“Only one you’ve ever had.” She winked, and my heart somersaulted in my chest. “Okay. I gotta get ready. You know where everything is. You have clothes in the dresser in the guest room. Get showered, brush your teeth. We’ve got this.”
My smile grew with her confidence. Even though I hated myself for getting into this situation and for needing to be rescued, I trusted Sloane and Cami to get me out of it.
***
A little under an hour later, I sat in the passenger seat of her Lexus, my stomach a knotted mess of nerves.
Since Cami wouldn’t tell either of us what plan she had in mind, I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect.
I’d seen similar situations happen with teammates before. They’d get involved in something they shouldn’t, spend months benched, and essentially do community service to get back in everyone’s good graces. Being benched would fucking suck, but the community service aspect wouldn’t be horrible...
As pathetic as it sounds, it would be a better excuse for avoiding Sloane than just not answering.
She pulled up to corporate headquarters, sliding into her assigned spot, as my fingers thrummed anxiously against my thighs.
I took several deep breaths while she typed something out on her phone, taking a second to study her out of the corner of my eye.
Her outfit today was one of my favorites, and it usually meant she was all business and ready to kick ass. Fitting for today’s activities.
She wore a thin beige turtleneck tucked into straight-legged slacks and a fitted black blazer. If I recalled correctly, she often referred to it as her ‘boss-ass-bitch-fit.’
I watched as she stuffed her phone into her Hermes purse and took off her sunglasses, pulling the visor down to apply a coat of lip gloss before turning to look at me.
For a moment, I was stunned into silence.
I’d seen Sloane like this a million times. I’d seen her bundled up to fight the cold Boston winters, in swimsuits at my parents’ pool, and lounging around in sweats and an oversized t-shirt. I’d witnessed her in every season of life, and I still couldn’t believe how absolutely stunning she was.
Her lips were moving, but everything was drowned out by the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
This was why I couldn’t be around her anymore.
Her fingers lifted to snap in front of my face, and I refocused on the conversation.
“Ready?” She punctuated her question with a cocked brow.
I took one more deep breath, wiping my sweaty palms against my chinos. “Yeah.”
She led the way, head held high as the two of us walked toward the building. Wandering eyes and questioning stares made me want to shrink up on the spot. Did they sell Hermes bags big enough to smuggle a human? I’d buy her one if they did.
Her nude Louboutins hit the pavement with purpose, like she was ready to take on the world. For me, I knew she would. And that made me one selfish bastard. I didn’t deserve to have someone like her on my side, not after everything I’d done to ignore her.
This whole affair was another reason on the long, long list of reasons we could never be together. She was always so put together and ready to kick ass. I was walking behind her like a scolded puppy to a meeting about another PR nightmare.
We walked through the lobby and into one of the elevators, both of us standing in an awkward silence once again. I didn’t know what to say.
I never knew what to say. Sloane made me nervous; I constantly tripped over my own words. One of these days, I was going to fuck up and say something I couldn’t take back. Being in love with her while also being her best friend was not only excruciating but also a recipe for disaster.
She cleared her throat as the doors split open, leading us to Camille’s office.
I bit back a groan when I saw her standing outside her door, tiny arms crossed over her chest. She was in her typical work attire; a flowy dark purple top with long sleeves that cinched at the wrists and a pair of light grey slacks.
Her black, kinky curls were pinned back into a low bun, and the soft, golden shimmer swept onto her cheeks made her dark, umber skin glow.
Her deep brown eyes narrowed and my stomach sank.
Cami was one of the sweetest people I knew, but all five-foot-two-inches of her was absolutely lethal when she wanted to be. As tough as she was, I knew it was her wanting what was best for me. In a way, it was a nice reminder that people cared.
Admittedly, I probably didn’t need to make that big of a scene to know that.
The second we stepped through the office door, it clicked shut behind me, and Cami’s hand reached up to smack me on the back of the head.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Armstrong? Coke? Fucking coke?! I hope you’re proud of yourself. This has got to be peak stupidity for you. I cannot believe you were that stupid!”
I sheepishly rubbed the back of my head, plopping down on the chair across from her desk, completely ignoring the smug look on Sloane’s face.
Maybe that was the reason she took it so easy on me this morning. She knew Cam would lay into me.
“Hi, Cam. Nice to see you, too,” I deadpanned, slouching into the chair.
Camille walked around to sit at her desk, swiping the mouse in a small circle to wake the computer up. “No pleasantries today. I don’t like you. Neither does Dominic.”
I rolled my eyes at the mention of my best friend and second baseman for the Bandits.
We were drafted together six years ago and have basically been attached at the hip ever since.
It was hard to make friends in pro ball.
No one really stuck around. But something about Dom made it feel worth it.
Aside from Sloane, Dominic was the only one who really understood me and my love for the sport. He understood the dedication.
It wasn’t easy for him to adjust to life on the east coast. He grew up in Southern California after his parents immigrated from Mexico when he was two years old.
It was hard to be away from his family. The harsh winters and seasonal depression made the first couple of years a living hell.
I did what I could, but nothing helped bring him back. Until Cami.
It wasn’t hard to see that he was essentially head over heels for Camille after she made her first introduction to the team. Being an old friend of Sloane’s, it was easy to set them up.
They’d been married for four years now.
“Dom can suck my—”
She held up her hand to cut me off. “Thin fucking ice, Rhys. Don’t finish that sentence.”
I hid my smirk and pressed my lips together, pretending to zip them up and toss the key, earning a snort from Sloane.