Page 5 of Just One Season
I’ve got a phone interview coming up in a few weeks. If I pass the phone interview, I’ll do a video interview… And if I pass that stage, I get to fly to England for a final, in-person interview in January.
I need to kick ass at this temporary PR job because I’m determined not to use my father as a reference. And my work might involve Kellen Bassey, so I’ll have to hope and pray that he forgets and/or forgives this unfortunate incident.
The best thing about Fort Collins is it’s 1500 miles from D.C., my father, my ex, my old job, my former life entirely.
Do I already need to get away from Colorado?
Good thing that England is—I do a quick calculation in my head—4500 miles from here.
And the sooner I get there, the better.
CHAPTER 2
A Good Father
KELLEN
I’m beat after spending an extra hour lifting at the gym, carefully following the plan I developed with my strength coach. In the showers, I’m still cracking up at the visual of Atticus’s sister’s dog slipping around on the ice. The look on the dog’s face, like he was having the time of his life. That is not a sight I often see at practice.
And the woman. Lucy. She was so flustered, swearing and freaking out on the sidelines. She shares the same wild, curly red hair as her brother, but she wears it much better.
I’ve heard about Lucy from Atticus. When you’re on the road as much as we are—on the team plane, buses, in hotel rooms, out for meals and drinks—things come out. Like his sister’s split from her cheating fiancé, and the way she quit her job at DC FC because the team owner—their father—wouldn’t fire her ex.
I can relate to asshole team owners.
It’s hard not to think about Paul Harrison, the one who’s currently keeping me up at night. Who controls my future in Fort Collins with the Blizzard. FoCo is where my job is, my daughter, my friends. My home.
It’s more fun to think about Lucy. She was surprising, or atleast her dog was when he darted across the ice and peed on the wall. Her cheeks were bright pink when I handed him back to her. I grin as I towel myself off. I should definitely not be thinking of my teammate’s sister as I dry my body.
I was the last one lifting, so the locker room is empty as I dress with only Coach Jackson still tucked in his office. He’s buried in his laptop and scribbling notes, probably watching last season’s game footage to discuss in a future practice.
I slip out into the hallway, planning on cutting through the arena and out to the parking lot. Cement walls with framed photos of teams and individual players from the past greet me. I’m in a bunch of those, and plan on being in a bunch more.
“Kellen,” a woman calls from behind me in the direction of the team management and administration offices.
Shit.The source of that voice might be why I’ll be left out of future photos.
I stop, take a deep breath, then turn to face the FoCo Blizzard team owner’s wife.
Savannah is sashaying up the hallway, looking beautiful as always in a form-fitting blue dress, long blonde curled hair splayed on her shoulders, red painted lips, and dark eyelashes. She’s in her late twenties—so potentially twenty-five years younger than Paul.
I got to know her a bit last season when she was first around after marrying Paul. She met him in D.C., and they had a whirlwind romance. Savannah told me Paul paid off all her law school debt, but she didn’t realize he expected her to give up her ambitions and just be a trophy wife.
I was a sounding board for her, so when I saw her at the season kickoff event earlier this month, she was catching me up.
But I should’ve learned the lesson not to befriend Savannah after Paul traded our teammate, Markus, at the end of last season. He was also friendly with her and rumor has it Paul felt threatened.
So he got rid of him.
Maybe it was just a rumor.
But that’s what I’m dealing with right now. Rumors.
I look over her shoulder before responding, checking to see if Paul is approaching from the direction of his office. But the hallway is empty. I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse, because Iamsure that I do not want to be alone with Savannah.
“Hey, Savannah. Where’s Paul?”
“Somewhere around here.” She shrugs and half smiles at me. “Are you still worried about that picture? If so, don’t be. I talked to him. Everything’s okay.”
