17. Jake #2
I shake my head, unable to believe it, but Winnie shoves a folded packet of printouts into my chest, and I’m forced to sit for a moment and riffle through them.
It’s a breakdown of county zoning filings she’s already pulled up online.
My eyes scan the text, the legal jargon, the name Hines & Associates stamped all over the acquisition files.
Nausea grips my stomach, followed by a burning, icy sting of total betrayal.
Campbell knows. She has to have known all along. Her father was just here.
I leave my mom and Winnie in the stands, marching straight to the locker room where I strip off my gear and step into the shower so the hot water can calm my angry heart.
I relish the burn it leaves on the back of my neck.
I linger behind at my locker, too, stalling until the rest of the guys pack up and leave.
There’s only one other soul in here, and I’m pretty sure he stayed behind for me.
Roddy tosses his duffel bag over his shoulder, pausing next to me as I sit facing my open locker. I’ve been staring at it blankly for minutes, processing the facts. He takes one look at my face and sighs.
“Don’t jump to conclusions, kid.”
“It doesn’t look good, Dad,” I say, my voice dangerously flat. “Not at all.”
He claps a heavy hand on my shoulder, and my body sinks with his touch.
“The one thing I’ve learned over a lifetime of blowing my lid, Jake, is that you should listen first. Hear her out.”
I stare at him, then let out a rough breath. “Yeah.”
He nods and heads out, leaving me alone in the quiet, musty space.
I grip the strap of my gear bag and stand, trying to take his advice to heart.
He was there with me when Grandma Maggie handed us that letter.
He must have already had this talk with Mom at the bar, and I’m sure Aunt Winnie came in hot with info. That’s her style.
If my father is calm about this, I should take his cue. There are lots of unknowns. But also . . . it’s Campbell’s father’s firm. That’s simply a fact. And it’s my family’s roots being bulldozed. All our roots. It’s hard to ignore those incredibly personal points.
I force myself to walk out to the main concourse, and when I hit the lobby, my breath catches in my throat.
Campbell is sitting on one of the benches near the wall of honor displayed by the entrance.
She has a thick pile of papers resting on her lap, tucked securely under her laptop, and her fingers are frantically patting the top of the computer’s casing.
She’s jittery, and when she looks up, her dark eyes seem frantic.
She looks . . . guilty.
I don’t say a word, instead swallowing the words that want to rush out of my mouth.
They won’t be nice, and there’s something to that saying about not speaking at all when you don’t have nice things to say.
Rather than engaging, I keep my eyes straight ahead and brush right past her, an internal war ripping through my chest.
She leaps up from the bench after I pass, the papers rustling as she rushes behind me, tracking my heavy boots as I head for the exit doors.
“Jake! Please, let me explain.”
I let out a harsh, bitter laugh, my bad manners getting the best of me, and I spin around to face her under the harsh fluorescent lobby lights.
“You knew your dad was behind this, didn’t you? You stood there in your office today and lied straight to my face. You told me to wait. You told me to trust.”
She swallows hard as her eyes blink rapidly. I shake my head and push through the door.
“Jake, listen to me!” she cries, trailing me through the humid night air to the driver’s side of my truck. As I reach for the handle, she grabs a fistful of fabric from my T-shirt, tugging hard.
“You have to understand . . . I had to be sure.”
I spin around, staring down at her, my jaw clenched so tight it aches.
“They’re sending me to Texas,” she blurts out, her voice cracking.
That stops me dead. The words cut through my anger, leaving a strange, strangled quiet between us. I hold on to her gaze, my chest heaving, and before I can open my mouth to accuse her of taking a corporate bribe to stay quiet, she holds up a hand, her eyes blazing with fierce determination.
“I’m turning it down.”
I blink once, then continue to stare at her.
“You have to believe me. I was always going to tell you when I knew for sure. I couldn’t just accuse him without proof.
My father doesn’t operate under normal father-daughter rules.
It’s all a court case to him. Our relationship is more like litigation.
I needed to be armed with details, to know what his role is, how long he’s been involved, his motives. ”
“You’re turning it down?” Something about this definitive rejection of being offered her dream hits me square in the chest.
I walk a tight circle on the asphalt, running a hand over my face, searching for the anger that drove me a minute ago. I can’t find it, and it’s because I believe her. More than that, I trust her.
My gaze snaps to hers as she waits anxiously near the side of my truck, both hands once again clutching the laptop and papers against her chest. I breathe in and out, my pulse racing, my heart rather terrified.
The only move that makes sense is to kiss her.
I march right back up to her, weave my fingers into her hair, and cover her mouth with mine.
It’s a desperate kiss, coming off angry and forceful, so I tear my lips away and take a step back as I run the back of my palm over my raw lips.
Campbell blinks up at me, her chest heaving. “What . . . what was that all about?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter, shaking my head. “I’m just mad. But also . . . I don’t think I’m mad at you.”
She lets out a shaky breath, a half-hearted challenge in her eyes. “You don’t think?”
“I don’t know,” I repeat, looking down at the ground before bringing my gaze back to her beautiful, exhausted face. “I just know . . . fuck, Campbell. I know things in my life got a whole hell of a lot better the second you entered it. And I don’t think you’re feeding me bullshit.”
“I’m not,” she fires back, her voice echoing in the empty parking lot. “I swear to you, I’m not,” she adds in a softer tone.
A long, heavy pause stretches between us as we just stand there, staring into each other’s eyes, the dust settling around our boots. Finally, I clear my throat, the reality of what she says sinking in. The weight of her decision.
“You can’t give up your dream job, Campbell. If Texas wants you, you have to go. That’s the big show.”
“I already wrote my resignation.” There’s a finality in her voice, and she doesn’t flinch.
I shake my head, completely baffled by her, by the sheer scope of what she’s walking away from. I reach up, my hand tenderly tracing the side of her face, my fingers smoothing over her arm.
“How can you be so sure? I mean, this business is brutal. I know how bad you want to go to the big leagues.”
“Yeah,” she whispers with a nod, cutting the distance between us in half. She peers up at me with big round eyes. “As bad as you want to.”
“So go.”
She shakes her head and lets out a soft, stunted laugh.
“Jake. If you had an offer to go to the majors right now, but you knew it wasn’t because you deserved it—that it wasn’t because your talent warrants the shot—but because someone is paying to get you out of the way, would you still take it?”
I turn my gaze toward the stadium lights, flashes of my incredible night replaying through my mind.
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice dropping. “I’m afraid I might. Take the shot, then prove myself once I get there.”
I meet her gaze, and she shakes her head, a small, knowing smile touching her lips.
“I don’t think you would. I’ve gotten to know you, Jake McKinney. And you? You’re built on integrity. I think you’d tell them to fuck themselves.”
A sudden snicker catches in my throat, a lopsided grin breaking through my serious expression.
“Yeah. Probably. But then I’d beat myself up for months for blowing my shot. Hell, maybe years.”
“Well,” Campbell says, a spark of pure rebellious mischief squinting her eyes as she pulls a document out of the folder under her laptop. “You should read the last line in my resignation letter.”
She hands it to me, and I scan past the formal legal paragraphs, skipping down to the very bottom of the page where her words turn cold and personal.
And this part is for my father, Eric Hines. You may be one hell of a lawyer, but you’re a real shit of a dad.
A deep chuckle reverberates in my chest, and my lopsided smirk spreads across my face until it evens out.
I toss the paper onto the hood of my truck, then take the folder and laptop from her hands, setting them on top of her resignation letter.
I pull her flush against my body, burying my face in her hair before tilting her chin up for a deep, lingering kiss that tastes like a promise.
When our lips part, I lower my forehead to hers, my eyes shut as I simply live in the moment. My hands rest on her hips as hers gather the front of my shirt in a tight grip.
“You want to go grab some late dinner at Earl’s?” I ask.
Campbell’s body quivers with a quiet laugh.
“Only if there’s dancing.”