We’re fucking finished.
AJ looks over in absolute fucking triumph. “I told everyone from the beginning that she was unfit to own a team, and then this happened.”
Cameras go off, and people are talking. They’re on the phone calling into tomorrow’s major fucking headline. It’s going to be carried all over the country. Fuck, all over the world.
How could I let this happen to Julianna? I look over to her. Her face is steely – as if someone’s kicked her in the stomach. She’s strong. She’s not going to break down on national television – even if she is staring the end of her career in the face.
“Do you have anything, anything at all to say for yourselves, you despicable human beings?” AJ says, his killing stroke now released. He’s probably counting the dollars that this book deal and paid TV spots this is going to generate. Fuck.
“If they don't, AJ, I’d like to get in a few words,” a voice calls out from behind the swarm.
In a second time in an hour, the entire room turns their heads back to the door. I try to look over, but with so many people standing now, it’s hard.
That’s when I hear Julianna gasp and grab my arm.
It’s Ethan fucking Blake. And he’s walking up the room – almost same route I took when I got here.
“What?” Ethan asks the room. “You all had a party and didn’t invite me?”
Motherfucker.
Ethan
“What? You all decided to have a party and didn’t even invite me?” I ask with a Colt Stackfordesque smirk as I walk up the room. The press is going positively insane, snapping pictures of me and shouting out questions. I finally make it up to the podium where I see Julianna look at me - there's hurt in her eyes. And for the first time, pain.
Then I look over at Colt and see something I never thought I’d see. Fear.
Well, I better remember their faces being like this.
“Ethan,” Julianna says and for a moment there, I’m worried she might actually start crying. Poor little rich girl. Miss Bad Girl. Now that would be a sight, wouldn't it? The one woman that can tame any man – that tamed Colt, that tamed me, and that brought us both to heel – starting to cry on national television.
“Bro,” Colt says, taking a step towards me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“What's wrong?” I say to him, and give him a smile. “Don’t want me to hog up the spotlight? Should be trained on you?”
He literally jerks back. Julianna looks at me like I’ve gone batshit crazy too. I think it’s the smile. Why would any sane person be smiling during a moment like this?
But I have good reason to smile.
You’re probably wondering what that reason is, aren’t you? Wondering if I’m the douchebag that threw both of the people I love under the bus so I could keep playing as defensive end and finally get one over Colt that he’d never be able to come back from.
Well, short answer – yes.
But wait, before you roll your eyes in disgust.
The long answer is a bit more complicated.
And I’m going to tell it, now.
I turn towards the podium and Colt gives me some space.
“AJ,” I say into the microphone. “You want to sit down for a second? Julianna gave you guys chairs for a reason?”
There’s a wave of nervous laughter that goes through the entire room. Christ, AJ has them riled up and ready to fucking tar and feather someone. And I think I know who.
“Let me start by saying something real slow, and I’ll repeat it if you need me to, because you know, it might take multiple times,” I say and the room quiets down.
“I Ethan Blake, love Julianna Heaton.”