the way, I’m going to make some calls to a few different teams, send out some feelers. In the meantime, I want Willow to sell the shit out of you. Tell her your stats, awards, accomplishments. I want everything. If you saved a kitten from a fire when you were six, I need to know about it. Won a spelling bee when you were eight. Hell, if you played multiple sports and got something more than a participation trophy, I need it. I’ll also need your transcripts from college, background information, family information, and we’ll need to do a full physical.”
She paled.
“Parker?” I snapped my fingers in front of her. “You got all that?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, I just . . . yes. I don’t like . . .” She looked down at her feet; but right before she did I caught something like vulnerability and maybe even a flash of pain in her eyes. “Can I please just request a female doctor?”
I made an annoyed sound. I wouldn’t let a male doctor near her, not after all of the shit going down in the sports world surrounding male doctors treating female athletes. “Absolutely.”
She exhaled. “Okay, good, thank you. That would be . . . thank you.”
Willow gave her a curious look.
I felt like I was missing something until Parker grinned over at Willow and said, “Remember Dr. Lee from sophomore year?”
Willow pressed a hand to her heart. “So gorgeous! I swear I tried to sprain my ankle on a daily basis just so he would say in that accent of his, ‘You’re benched!’”
“I would have gone to his bench any day.” Parker laughed.
“You were too good a player.” Willow winked. “Even with a sprained ankle.”
“As much as I love this journey down memory lane,” I said as I grabbed my cell from the counter, “I’m going to be in my office working.”
Willow pouted. “Do I get an office?”
“Intern.” I grinned. “Say it with me, inter—”
She grabbed a pillow and waved it high in the air like she was going to chuck it at my face or maybe even try for my balls.
I smirked. “You can work in the living room or theater room. It’s nice. You can even set up camp outside, grab your laptop, and get to work. No more talking about the past. We need to focus on Parker’s future. And, Willow? That’s your job. Don’t fail her. I don’t have to remind you that representing friends and family never ends well, which means you’ve got your job cut out for you.”
“Good thing we aren’t friends,” Parker piped up, her venom directed at me. And all I could conjure up was an image of us being anything but friendly in the shower.
And me pulling her hair.
Running my hands over—
I locked eyes with her and whispered gruffly, “Good thing.”
Chapter Eight
PARKER
I nervously tucked my feet under my body while Willow’s fingers flew across the keyboard. For some reason the tap, tap, tap of her nails had me cringing the longer we sat there.
It had been a painful three hours.
Three hours where I did nothing but talk about myself while Willow did the appropriate uh-huhs and then the tap, tap, tap.
I dug my hands into the throw pillow, ready to toss it across the room.
I wasn’t meant to be indoors.
Sitting.
My legs itched to run.
My body pulsed with the need to just be outside and do something active. Nervous energy pounded through me until it was so hard to concentrate that I wanted to scream.
“Okay, let’s talk about this last year.” Willow sighed. “I think I have most of the information I need, since we were practically sleeping in the same bed every night.”
I gave her an annoyed look. “You said you’d replace your bed then kept forgetting. You’re lucky it wasn’t a twin.”
“It was more comfortable than mine would have been.”
I sighed. “Admit it, you’re afraid of the dark.”
She just grinned at her screen. “I admit nothing. Okay, so this last season you won MVP then had the title stripped after . . .” She cleared her throat like she wasn’t sure what else to say.
And she’d be right about that.
After I punched my coach.
After I ruined my life.
After I said no.
I hugged my chest and shook my head at the ground like it held all the answers along with all the memories of him, the moments leading up to life-changing circumstances that should have made me a hero instead of a villain.
“Can we take a break?” I croaked, already