Page 58 of Drop Three

“She’s still in here,” I say, tapping my head, “I’ve had some adjustments to work through lately, but things are looking up.”

One thing that makes Jack Leggins a great friend is his caring nature. He never causes trouble, never picks a fight, and always looks out for his friends. Even as the head coach and essentially the boss of every staff member here, he leads by example.

Long story short, he’s a great guy.

“I’m only checking. You let me know if you need anything. I know Cal is all high on marriage and rabbit fucking, so just know you’ve got me and Tay.”

“I say rabbit fucking too! God, they never leave the house.” I can’t help my giggle. “Speaking of Taylor, how is she?”

Taylor is Jack’s wife. They didn’t know each other for very long before they got married when Taylor found out she was pregnant. Sadly, they ended up losing the baby and stayed together.

However, none of us have ever been convinced he really loves her. I think deep down, he did what he thought was best at the time: marry her, whether he genuinely loved her or not.

I’ve met Taylor; she’s a beautiful and sweet woman, but doesn’t fit with Jack.

At the beginning of last year, Jack told the team and staff members about Taylor’s recent diagnosis of breast cancer. It shocked all of us, and we’ve been rallying to do everything we can to show them support.

It’s been a tough and long few months for both of them since Taylor started her treatments, and I can tell the exhaustion is wearing on him.

“She has her good days. They’re few and far between,” he answers. I can tell Jack is doing his best to be positive, and I get it. Positivity may be the only thing making the entire process manageable for them.

I nod. “Well, tell her I’m rooting for her.”

“I will. Thanks, Navy.”

Taking that as a sign to finally leave this place, I shove my purse and iced coffee in my arms without another word before leaving.

“Oh, Navy!” I spin quickly at the sound of Jack’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s meet soon to discuss the charity gala next month. I want to finalize all the small details with you before we order the catering and decor.”

Not only am I a sideline reporter for the Strikers, but I’m also the event coordinator by default. Not because the role was forced on me, but because I actually enjoy it.

I don’t like to brag, but I put on a damn good event.

Fashion, design, planning, decor—they’re my thing.

The charity gala,Wish 4 Kids, raises money to support children in the foster care system. This organization is super important to me because my brother was raised in foster care until he was fifteen, when he joined our family.

I know the different living situations he had no choice but to endure. Our mission in supporting this incredible charity is to bring hope to these children and provide them with better resources.

I’ve secured most of the final details this past month, but I still need to make a few last-minute confirmations before sending the tickets to our employees.

That’s another thing. Etiquette at these events requires you to bring a plus one—a date. Seeing as the number of men lining up to date me right now looks a lot like Briggs and only Briggs, I’m taking this as my sign to finally reach out to him.

I’m looking forward to the prospect of going on a date.

It’s been ages since I’ve been wined and dined; I feel like Briggs is a wine and dine kind of guy.

However, I don’t think jumping straight into the charity gala with him for our first date is best, so I plan to text him and see his ideas.

There’s no way I’m calling him. I’m terrible under pressure, and surely the man will request to pick me up immediately. I need at least an entire week to prepare myself for anything out of the ordinary. I may be comfortable with most people, but change terrifies me.

Speaking of, I need to find a dress.

Maybe my best friend will finally agree to come out of her sex coma, greet me with her presence, and join me in blowing thousands of dollars on a dress we’ll only wear once.

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