Page 1 of How to Prevent a Fumble

PROLOGUE

LEO

I’ve learned over the last couple of months that when you think you’ve hit rock bottom, it can always get worse.

“How often are people fired by their publicists?” Owen asks, frowning at his phone.

“Often enough, I’m sure. I’m definitely not the first.”

Emmett glances at me from the corner of his eye before going back to the game in front of him. Every once in awhile he gets a babysitter so he can come over and play games on my couch. Something about not wantingthesetypes of games around his kid. Reasonable. But while he’s here to relax, Owen is here to chew me out.

“Tell the truth. How bad is it?” Owen pushes.

I sigh, throwing myself back against the couch with a grunt. It’s not that bad, right? I’m just left without a publicist. I’m Leo Warner. I just won a Super Bowl last season. I have five brand deals coming up. I can get another one in three seconds flat.

If you pay enough money, anyone will do anything.

“Doesn’t sound promising,” my best friend cringes. Owen has been my guy since we started on the team together. Thebest wide receiver in the league after last year, we’re the dream team.

But there’s the slight inconvenience that is him fucking my sister.

I’m slowly getting over it.

I swear I am.

“It’ll be fine.”

I’m not so sure about that.

“You were seen leaving a hotel room with strippers, Leo.”

I hold up a finger. “I was not leaving a hotel roomwithstrippers, I was leaving it separately. I had nothing to do with why the strippers were there.”

Owen rolls his eyes, tossing his phone on the soft material next to him and grabbing his pizza—that he brought himself—from the coffee table in front of us. I get my pizza from a place down the road, and for whatever reason none of my friends like it, especially not Owen.

Athletes are allowed to eat pizza, but we should probably start thinking about how much it’ll hurt in training camp.

“I think you need to figure your shit out, man. I love you, you know that, but this isn’t looking good.”

And it’s not. I know that. The Cobras have strict rules, and if any of us step out of line it could mean some serious shit.

Let’s be honest, I’m not made for serious shit.

“I told you. I think it’ll be fine. I guess I just don’t understand why it matters who I was with and why.” Most of the men on the team have made questionable decisions. As long as no one was hurt, it’s usually okay. On the rare occasion that one of the men steps out of line with a woman, I’m quick to put them in their place.

But here’s my two best friends puttingmein my place.

All I did was go to a party.

…and left with strippers.

But in my defense, I showed them to their cars. That was all. Honest.

“What did they tell you when they said they’re no longer working with you?” Emmett asks.

I roll my eyes. “They saidI’m really sorry Leo, but there’s a point where we cannot continue with clients, and this was that breaking point for us.”

Owen smirks. “You realize that it has to bebadfor them to drop you, right? Like I’m pretty sure there've been some murderers who had their PR firms stand by them through trial.”

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