The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,32
with words. You’ll find your Mr. Right.”
She takes a ball and starts for the key, shouting. “Not in this shithole I won’t.”
Practice goes better than expected. My game is back on track and I’m certain I can deliver. The idea of playing in the WNBA, of finally realizing my dream, is within grasp. But the funny thing? Nolan has somehow inserted himself into the fantasy. I picture myself on court and he’s there on the sidelines cheering me on. He’s in the background when I’m being interviewed, inducted into the Hall of Fame, signing jerseys… He’s always there. I don’t know what to read into it only that I want him in my life.
On Nolan’s orders, Carrie walks home with me.
I fish for the keys Nolan gave me at the door.
“You mind if I hang for a bit? Carrie asks. “My roommates on a mid-afternoon sex-a-thon.”
I find my keys and unlock the door, pushing it open. “If you’re hoping to find a random King brother buck naked, you’re going to be disappointed. They’re all out.”
I walk in. “Hello?” I call, but no one’s here, not even the girls—a rarity.
“You hungry?” I ask Carrie.
She whistles behind me, looking around in wonder. “Damn. So this is how the other half live.”
“Just don’t go in the bedrooms,” I warn. “You hungry?”
I toss my bag and keys onto the kitchen counter and head straight for the fridge.
“I could eat,” Carrie replies.
I’ve got an armful of sandwich ingredients when my cell starts to ring. I fumble everything onto the counter and take it out, seeing the number is listed private. I answer. “Linnea here.”
Carrie mouths ‘Bathroom’, pointing down the hall. I nod and point left, watch her disappear around the corner.
“That was quite the stunt you pulled this morning.”
I sigh and lean against the counter. I shouldn’t have answered. I should get a new number. “All in good fun, father.”
“She’s one of the best wedding planners in the country, Linnea. You have no idea how hard it was to get her out here.”
“Funny that, you have no idea how easy it was to get her off campus,” I fire back.
“Mmm,” he mumbles. “I’m happy to find a different planner if she wasn’t…your style.”
I reach up to hold my elbow. “And what, do tell, is my style?”
“Let’s not do this shall we, Linnea, this dance. We both know this is for the best. I care about you, I do.”
I try not to let the irritation filter into my voice. “Don’t even go there. You have no right.”
He abandons that and replies with something far more familiar. “You will marry Harry, Linnea.”
The rhyming is mildly amusing, I can’t take his arrogance a second longer. “I’m marrying Nolan. You’re too late.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffs.
“Don’t call me, don’t try to fucking kidnap me again, and definitely don’t try to stop this, because it’s happening. Goodbye,” I tell him, hanging up.
“Are you really? Getting married?”
I spin to see Carrie entering the room. I’d forgotten all about her, placing the cell down and tossing my ponytail over my shoulder.
Am I really going to marry Nolan? It’s the question of the hour. I can think of all the reasons it’s a bad idea. We haven’t been together long. We’re young. We’re different in many ways, but I ignore them all, ignore everything telling me to say no and instead tell Carrie, “Yes, we are.”
She looks shocked. “Wow, you sure?”
I nod and realize I am. Fuck it. I am. “Yeah,” I reply. “It makes sense.”
Carrie raises an eyebrow. “It does?”
I’m thankful for her honesty at least. I laugh. “No. It makes no sense at all, but that doesn’t mean it’s not right, and it feels right, Carrie. It feels like the easiest decision of my life.”
“Does he know?”
“What?”
“You’re getting married.”
Good point. “Not yet.”
She moves past me to the kitchen counter, starts assembling a sandwich as if the news is already forgotten. “What are you waiting for then? Swipe up that cell and let him know.”
“I think I should do it person.”
“He’s back at the Academy?”
I nod.
“Can I at least finish my sandwich?”
“No, you stay here,” I tell her. “I’ll be fine.”
“But he said…”
“I know what he said, but seriously. No one’s going to stop me getting me to him.”
Carrie stops what she’s doing. “You are absolutely sure?”
“About going alone?”
“About marrying him, dumbass.”
“I am,” I reply.
“Okay,” smiles Carrie.
“Okay.”
There’s a second more before I swipe up my keys and head out the door, calling, “Lock the door on the way out. Oh, and the