Page 29 of Home Game

I clenched my jaw. “It’s always a beautiful thing when people are devoted to what they care about.”

I meant what I said—Veronica was wonderful, and I always respected people who cared deeply about their own faith.

But after years of working for Cutmore, I knew the implications behind his words. Once, over a few glasses ofscotch, he had said a few things to me that I’d never forgotten in my life.

“There will come a time when you need to grow up, Emmett,” he’d said to me, his gruff face forming a stern expression. “I know your father is too soft-hearted to tell you, but you need to end up with a woman one day. Now I’m notanti-gay, or whatever the media would label me. But the only proper place for a man of business is with atrue family.”

It was the closest I’d ever been to quitting Lux Marketing.

I’d gone to my father the next day, telling him what Cutmore had said. My father had always known that he was on the conservative side, but he’d never expressed any opinions about trying to make me end up straight, before. Or maybe he just wanted me tofakebeing straight for the public, which was even worse.

“What does he expect me to do, marry a woman and just pretend I’m attracted to her?” I told Dad. “How cruel would that be to the woman? To my damnchildren, if I had any?”

“It’s ridiculous,” Dad said. “We need him out of the company.”

I’d found Dad dead on the floor less than three weeks later, and my life had spiraled down into a balancing act, where I was just trying to tread water.

I knew I couldn’t work for a man who had Cutmore’s opinions. But in the days after Dad’s death, I could barely remember how to breathe.

So when he told me, now, that Veronica was the “good kind” of client, I hated every last implication that was laced beneath his words.

“You don’t have to worry about Storm Rosling,” I told him, though I’d already said it to him half a dozen times this week. “I’ve got a handle on it.”

But do I?

And do I even want to, just to keep a person like you pleased?

It all started to fall apart a few days later.

“We’re really impressed,” Tad Williams, one of the brand execs at Racks superstores, told me as he stood up and shook my hand. We were in the Fixer Brothers offices, and we’d just had the first in-person meeting with Racks. “I’ll be in touch over the next few days after speaking with a few of my colleagues.”

I was hopped up on way too many shots of espresso, and I hoped to hell that Tad couldn’t feel the jitter in my hand as we shook.

When was the last time I’d actually beenthatnervous for a brand meeting? These days, I could conduct most business meetings in my sleep, let alone easy, preliminary, get-to-know-you meetings like today’s.

But as usual, the Racks and Fixer Brothers deal was anything but typical.

“I had no idea how dedicated Racks was to young athletes,” Shawn told him, standing and shaking Tad’s hand. “Ten percent of all proceeds going to underprivileged kids sports programs… that would be a dream for us.”

“And Storm Rosling may as well be the poster boy for that,” Nathan said with a smile. “He came from poverty, and now he’s a superstar.”

I winced internally.

We’d managed to make it the whole meeting without bringing up Storm, but I knew it would have to come up sometime.

Tad clicked his tongue. “Didn’t I hear Storm Rosling got into a bar fight a couple of weeks ago? Something like that?”

“Not a fight,” I quickly said. “Nothing like that. It was just an exchange of words.”

“I could exchange some words right now, if you’d like,” a voice came from behind me, toward the open glass doors of the conference room.

A bolt went down my spine.

I knew that velvety voice, by now.

I turned to see Storm leaning in the doorframe, giving his signature smile to Tad.

“Storm! There’s the man himself,” Nathan said. “Didn’t know you were coming by the offices today.”

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