Chapter 3 #2
He’d started high school as a three-season athlete.
Then, he was named starting quarterback sophomore year.
After his coach started talking about his arm, his composure, and that he was good enough that football could be his future, Decker went all-in.
His life became training, stats, and breaking records.
His time was spent in clinics, camps, and private lessons.
“Eminem.” He and his teammates would blast “Till I Collapse” while working out. “DJ Khaled.”
“‘All I do is Win?’” She smiled. “I loved that song.” Her features softened, and her eyes went unfocused. “It brings back so many memories. Every competition for the business club, I’d pump myself up with it.”
“Business club?”
“You can make fun of me all you want, but it’s not easy getting into an Ivy League school. There’s a whole checklist of things you’ve got to do. Student council, philanthropy, sports.”
“Sports?” He knew he sounded condescending and wished he could take it back. Not cool. “What’d you play?”
“Oh, I never took it seriously.” She laughed in her reckless, brazen way. “Let’s see, I ran track—hated it—tried the swim team—blech.” She touched her head. “Ruined my hair. Never got into a pool again. But I held my own at volleyball, so I stuck with that.”
Ivy League, huh? “Where’d you wind up?”
“Columbia University.”
“Why there?” he asked.
“It’s a family thing.”
“Your family’s from New York? I thought you grew up in Calamity?”
“I did. At the Wild Rose Inn and Saloon.”
Willa. Connections started firing in his brain. “Wait. You’re Jack Holland’s daughter?”
She nodded with a proud grin.
“You’re telling me Jack went to college in New York City?” The man looked like a lumberjack—big, bearded, and strong enough to lift a truck—but he had a gentle soul. Everyone loved Jack.
“No, he didn’t go to college. He went straight from high school to the inn.
But my mom did, so it gave me a leg up.” She pointed a finger at him.
“That’s not to say I didn’t earn my way there because I did.
I’m just saying, being a legacy doesn’t hurt.
” She sped up to get through a yellow light, and the sudden acceleration threw his body back against the seat.
His ankle twisted, and searing pain turned his vision white.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
Pain consumed him, and he just had to wait for it to subside.
The turn signal flickered, and she veered into a massive parking lot.
“What’re you doing?”
She eased into a spot. “I’m grabbing some stuff for the trip.” When she cut the engine, she pulled out her phone and began scrolling.
Frustration ripped through him. “We don’t have time for this.”
“It’s a road trip. You have to stock up.”
“That’s not what this is.” He shouldn’t have grumbled at her, but he was in fucking pain.
“Are we in a car?” She lowered the phone to give him a pointed look. “Are we traveling a long distance? Yes, and yes.” She pulled her tote from the backseat. “Now, come on. You’re going to need some stuff.”
“I’m not going in there.”
“Why not?” She glanced at the enormous discount store. “If you think you’re going to find fancy gourmet food in Logan, Utah, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”
“I don’t need anything.”
“Of course, you do.” She held up her phone. “You need ice and painkillers. And I’ll grab us some water.”
Wait, that’s what she was doing on her phone? “You looked up what I need?”
“Yep.” She read the screen. “Ice and elevation.”
She was right. “That was nice of you.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She opened the door, but before getting out, she asked, “What do you want to eat?”
“Just grab me a protein bar.”
“Did I have you nailed or what?” Laughing, she slammed the door, leaving him alone in the car.
He should’ve been relieved. Instead, she’d taken all that positive energy and enthusiasm. And left her honeysuckle and lemon scent.
Which was nice.
Sexy even.
A little sweet, a little sharp. It fit her.
He shouldn’t have been such an asshole. Let her have fun. What did it matter to him? She wanted to get there as quickly as he did.
He needed to update his family, so he pulled up the group chat and saw messages stacked up.
Dad: Decker? You okay? What’s going on?
Dad: Has anyone heard from him?
The last time Decker had texted, his private plane had made an emergency landing. From that moment on, he’d been focused on getting the rental car his manager had secured for him.
Boone: He’s eating a salad. No dressing.
Wyatt: He’s doing crunches on the jetway.
Boone: Sir, passengers are trying to get off the plane. Can you please do this somewhere else?
Wyatt: No, ma’am. I’ve been sitting for over an hour. My eight-pack is already turning into a dad bod.
Dad: Hey.
Boone:
Ava: Rehearsal dinner starts at six. Do you think he’ll make it?
Dad: He’ll be here.
Ava: Does Jude know yet, do you think?
This chat excluded his oldest brother because he didn’t know about his own wedding.
Wyatt: Not so sure about that. Looks like another storm cell’s passing through.
He hadn’t meant to make his family worry.
Decker: Hey, sorry about that. Got a car and a driver. Only 4 hours left.
Wyatt: What driver? I called every service in Calamity and Salt Lake City, and they’re fully booked.
Ava: Summer’s a busy season. Lots of weddings.
Decker: I’ll be there.
Dad: How’d you get a driver?
Boone: By waving around that fat wallet. $50M contracts open doors.
Wyatt: He hasn’t earned that yet. He has to play the season first.
Boone: Oh, sorry, Forest Gump. I forgot to be literal with you. That $150M sitting in his bank account opens doors.
Decker: Are you clowns finished? After I got my car, I ran into some woman from Calamity who needed to get home, too.
Ava: Some woman?
Decker: Finlay’s friend. Willa Holland.
Ava: Are you serious? Willa? You just happened to run into Finlay’s best friend? How wild is that?
Dad: Get her here intact.
Decker: She’s behind the wheel, so tell her that. She’s driving like we’re on the Daytona track. My ankle’s getting wrecked over here.
Ava: She and Finlay are like sisters. She won’t take risks in getting here.
Decker: Got to go. See you at the dinner.
After setting his phone down, Decker stared out the window. In the car beside him, a door opened, and a woman lifted her baby from a car seat, settling him against her shoulder. Somewhere behind him, a cart with a busted wheel clanked across the asphalt.
The moment anxiety took hold in his chest, he blocked it. Put his goal front and center.
Fastest quarterback to twenty-five thousand career passing yards.
He needed seven hundred yards in two games—three-fifty a night.
His career average was 303.75 per game.
He could do this.
I will do it.
He’d heal—he’d made sure of that with extra work, stabilizers, all the small muscles most guys ignored. He didn’t leave that kind of thing to chance.
And just because he wasn’t on the field didn’t mean he’d miss anything that mattered. Meetings. Film. Install. He’d be in it.
The margin might be tighter than he’d planned, but it was workable.
Another cart rattled, and he glanced over to see a woman heading to a battered red truck with enough food to feed an entire football team.
Moving past her came a striking woman who commanded attention. A light breeze lifted her blonde hair, and full breasts bounced in a white T-shirt. It took opening the back door for him to realize it was Willa.
Oh, fuck.
He should not be noticing her tits.