Page 109 of Rebellious

“I told you we’d get the contract. I should charge you more for doubting me.”

Wait. That’s no memory. My eyes fly open and I spot Aspen Von Bremen, clad in a grey pantsuit, a cup of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. She throws her head back and laughs, juggling her coffee and keys while attempting to open the door.

What the—

I grab my phone and fire off a text to my father, the secret keeper.

Me: An agent, huh?

It’s like I can envision the shit-eating grin on my father’s face as he responds.

Dad: I hear she’s one of the best.

Suddenly, I’m full of energy, watching as the door closes behind Aspen, the blinds to her office opening to reveal a desk and several boxes. I stare at my phone, my chest feeling lighter than it has in the last twenty-four hours.

Me: Thanks, Dad.

Dad: Theo says you’re welcome.

My face hurts with the amount of smiling I’m doing right now. She stayed. Somehow, by some miracle, Aspen stayed in Atlanta, forgoing Boston.

Me: What changed her mind?

My father, and probably Theo too, quickly respond.

Dad: Focus, Bennett. You need a game plan and one hell of a pitch to land this agent.

I nod, watching Aspen take a sip of her coffee. She looks tired, but perfect. My father is right; it doesn’t matter why she stayed. It only matters that she did. I don’t plan on wasting this second chance.

Four months later…

“You hanging out with us tonight?”

Bruce, my left tackle, is tying his shoe, his voice hopeful.

I pat his shoulder. “Not tonight. Next time.”

I mean it. In the past four months, I’ve been more social with my team. However, my nights are taken.

“Of course, see you tomorrow then?”

I tip my chin in agreement and head out to the parking lot where I get into the car, pulling out my phone and sending my daily text before heading home.

Me: I’ll cook on Wednesdays.

Starting up the car, I don’t wait for her to answer. She never does, and that’s okay. My texts are purposefully cryptic. Like any good quarterback, I’m waiting on my opening. Soon enough, Aspen will know my intentions with these texts.

“You stalking tonight?” My brother greets me at the door, a beer in his hand.

“Yep.”

I don’t bother explaining how it’s not stalking, more like protecting, but neither Fenn nor Drew really care what I call it. All they care about is that I haven’t been a royal dick these past few months.

Pushing past Drew, I head down the hallway to my bedroom for a few things.

Fenn clears his throat. “You should eat before you go.”

Dark circles frame his eyes as he picks at the hem of his shirt. “I will,” I say honestly. “I planned to pick something up.”

---