Page 11 of Chasing After You
I click the answer button, but the voice on the other end makes my stomach turn more than that meeting did today.
“Henry? Baby, it’s Mo—” I hang up immediately, acid filling my mouth.
My mother, Allison, disappeared from my life when I was four without a trace. I never received a birthday card, or a single phone call until the details of my rookie contract were released after the draft. I was the third overall draft pick, and a week later, I heard from my mother for the first time in eighteen years. I answered the first couple of calls out of curiosity, but it quickly became obvious she was only calling because she wanted money. I stopped answering and changed my number. It doesn’t matter, though. She always finds a way of getting my new one, and it’s more of a hassle than it’s worth.
I was tired of the questions from my parents every time I changed my number, so I started blocking her number, but occasionally, an unknown one slips through.
Everyone needs something from me, so why should my mother be any different?
CHAPTER FOUR
Mirabelle
WHEN I TOOK this internship, I assumed it would be a lot of grunt work: getting coffee, standing in the background to learn, and combing through the internet to find anything detrimental to a player’s image before it can go viral. I certainly never dreamed I’d be part of the duo shadowing Henry to help repair his image, and help the public get to know him.
Stacey asked me to follow her and began briefing me on the way to a meeting, and to say it blindsided me would be an understatement.
I called my parents later that night to ask them if there were any favors called in regarding my position, and Dad swore there wasn’t. It didn’t do much to make me feel better about it.
I know I’m not like the other interns, but that doesn’t mean I want to stack more bricks on the wall separating us.
Hence, I’m struggling to get out of my Audi while balancing two carriers of coffee after volunteering to make the coffee run today. Stacey only drinks coffee from a specific local coffee shop that conveniently isn’t served at the stadium, but she’s not wrong about it tasting better.
I make it all of two steps before one of the coffees tilts in my hands, spilling all over my cream-colored blouse. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I groan loudly, because my shirt is most likely ruined, and it’s one of my favorites.Stupid me, wanting to look nice for my first day shadowing Henry.He looked horrified in that meeting to see I was one of the people assigned, and I want him to know I’m taking this seriously.
I adjust my grip on the coffee cups, eyeing them with pure disdain. At least the one that spilled on me was iced, so I didn’t burn myself. I think I have an extra change of clothes in the back of my car, too. I turn around, trying to hold the other coffees steady because the only thing that would make this worse is if I spilled all of them on me.
Except when I turn, I crash into someone I hadn’t even heard come up behind me. This time, it’s not iced coffee, but a whole tray of hot coffee crushed against my chest. “Motherfucker!” I yelp, dropping the rest of the coffees to the ground as I swat the steamed liquid off me.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” A deep voice asks, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath to pause before reacting.
“It’s fine.” I force the words to come out of my mouth, but it’s painful.
I look up, trying my best to keep a somewhat pleasant expression on my face, but I’m taken aback for a moment because it’s a player. Quinn Mackie, the new wide receiver the Panthers received as part of the trade for Henry’s best friend, Andrew, with the Serpents.
“Mirabelle, right?” he asks, a sheepish smile on his face.
Seriously? We’re going to play this game?
“Yeah. Sorry, but now I’m late, and I have no coffee so my boss and coworkers are going to be pissed at me,” I say, bending down to grab the now empty cups of coffee off the ground so I can throw them away. God, I couldn’t even handle a simple coffee run. Not that juggling eight coffees is simple, but still, I didn’t need to give them another reason to not like me.
“That’s fine, I can walk with you,” Quinn says, falling into step beside me.
Well, okay then. Ireallydon’t have time for this today. I clamp my jaw shut because I don’t trust myself to be kind. I felt sick with nerves all last night because I don’t want to say or do the wrong thing today, and everything has already gone wrong. I’m also annoyed he’s pretending he doesn’t know who I am, when he clearly does. I’m not trying to be conceited for once, but come on.
“How are you liking the stadium so far?” he asks, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
I cast him a sideways glance, my heels clicking against the pavement. “Considering I’ve been coming here since I was a newborn, I’d say it feels like home.”
“What a coincidence, it feels like home for me now too. I can’t say I’ve been coming here that long, that’s impressive.”
What does he want?“Makes sense, since you’re from Seattle, unless you flew out here all the time to attend games.”
He smiles widely as I swipe my badge at the door, dropping the coffee cups in the trash can behind it. “So, you know who I am?”
“It’s kind of my job to know who you all are, at least I’m not pretending I don’t know,” I say shortly, turning a quick corner toward the offices.
Quinn keeps up easily, just as my phone rings in my pocket. It’s probably Stacey, wondering where the hell the coffees are. “I’m also friends with Henry,” he adds, not getting the hint.
