Page 34 of Necessary Roughness

I rolled my eyes. “That bird never shuts up. I’m thinking of donating her to science so they can study her.”

“How is that fair?” Claire asked. “You don’t shut up either and I keep you around.”

Too weak to engage with her teasing, I reached out for the pills, brushing the flask away. “She could use a vacation.”

“She’s not your bird.”

“Accidents happen, Claire.”

Claire squinted at me. “I know what your problem is.”

“That I was almost killed on a madman’s boat?”

She shook her head. “Your problem is that you now owe Luke your life in two ways: one, for using his name as a career-building tactic for yourself, and two, for literally saving your life.”

“Claire, stop it.”

“So how does it feel knowing your arch nemesis pulled a Superman and saved your life? I thoughtyouwere supposed to be the hero of your own story.”

I popped open the bottle and tossed two pills in my mouth, chugging them with a swig of overpriced water I had stolen from my boss’s fridge.

“I didn’t ask to be a damsel in distress on Leonard’s boat,” I answered. “Luke pulls everyone into his drama.”

“Aww, come on Brett. Big strong NFL player saves you in a storm. Are we at the start of a rom com? Did you two gaze into each other’s eyes as the wind howled between you?”

As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what had happened.

If I hadn’t known any better, and if I weren’t sworn to complete and utter hatred for Luke Dalton, I would have said we shared a moment the previous day.

When we both fell to the floor surrounded by chaos, something connected between the two of us.

I knew it had.

Coupled with my feelings of guilt about costing Luke a sponsorship, the dynamic had shifted. I could no longer hate him.

And, for some wild reason, I no longer wanted to hate him.

“Fine,” I finally relented, “he helped. Don’t let it go to his head though. He has a big enough ego.”

Claire chuckled after taking a swig from her flask. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just a guy who likes saving his favorite podcaster. Try not to swoon too hard.”

Her phone rang, shaking me from my thoughts.

She spoke on the phone for a moment, then frowned at me as she ended the call. “I’m sorry sweetie, my client wants to see a giant house that has a giant price tag—which means acolossalcommission for me. Gotta run!”

The life of a realtor was never dull.

She packed her bag and rushed toward the front door, leaving me in shambles.

As she stepped outside, she turned and glanced at me over her shoulder. “Don’t miss me too much while you’re busy rebranding yourself as Luke’s biggest fan. Call me when the wedding invites go out!”

An hour later,my muscles ached slightly less than they had before. Which wasn’t much, but at least the pills had made the pain tolerable.

What I needed to do was focus. I had a podcast to record, and over the past few months my audience had grown to thousands of people. Maybe one day I’d reach millions. They’d tune in to hear what I had to say, desperately clinging on to my analyses and interpretations of the sport.

But for now, I was a small fish in a big pond.

I hobbled over to the desk and glared down at my setup. For some reason, the microphone didn’t beckon to me as it once had. It was as if I had nothing to say. Or maybe nothing vicious to say.

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