Page 126 of Over the Moon

“And Eloise is well qualified for the position as physical therapist, as well as trainer, with her dual certification,” Sebastian countered.

Randall handed everyone a thick stapled packet, and I looked over, recognizing the handwriting and realizing that it was acopy of the notes that Clark and I had written to one another. It felt as if the blood drained from my body.

How did Randall get this?

Had he gone through my desk?

Had he read what we’d written?

This was a violation in the worst way. Our private thoughts and feelings were handed out for everyone to read.

It was reprehensible.

“So I’ve already read you the most incriminating letters that Eloise and Clark have exchanged in their little love letter of a notebook, but I made copies of every entry for you all to have.”

No.

Nooooo.

My face heated, and my stomach twisted so violently, I thought I was going to be sick.

I couldn’t breathe.

They all had copies of our most intimate words.

I wanted to run out of the room and never look back.

But I did this. I knew what I was doing was wrong, and I did it anyway.

I looked up, and I saw something pass across Sebastian’s gaze. Maybe it was empathy, or maybe it was pity.

I couldn’t look at anyone else.

“You’ve read enough from the notebook to us already, Randall,” Scarlett said, and maybe I was having an out-of-body experience, but her tone appeared to be laced with irritation. “I don’t need to read everything they wrote to one another. It’s a complete invasion of privacy.”

Scarlett tossed her packet onto the desk and folded her arms over her chest.

I glanced at my father, and he wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t speaking.

He just stared down at his hands, the packet resting on his lap.

“Agreed.” Sebastian set his packet down and cleared his throat. “And you found this notebook because it was left in the training room, is that correct?”

“Yes. Not that it really matters where it was found,” Randall snipped. “It’s such a blatant violation of the contract, I don’t even know where to start.”

“It wasn’t left in the training room. It was in my desk drawer,” I said, unsure how I even found the words to speak because I was beyond humiliated.

Mortified.

Embarrassed.

And everything in between.

But I sure as hell did not leave that notebook in the training room. He’d gone looking for it.

Sebastian scrubbed a hand down his face. “Is this notebook something that you and Clark Chadwick shared? Are you having an affair with a player on this team?”

---