One More Step - Colleen Hoover Page 0,201

back the sobs that are wracking my entire body. I should have read this years ago. I should have given football to my children all these years they’ve been begging me for it. I should have known that Vilma would know just what to do…even in her death.

“It’s time for a change,” I say, folding the now-damp paper and tucking it safely in my pocket. I turn and walk away from the cemetery.

Grief will likely live with me forever because my passion for Vilma is the most profound experience of my life.

But another passion burns inside me. And if my children are anything like their mother, they will feel that passion too.

I will teach the Harrises how to play football. And we will heal. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be immediate. But I truly believe that in time…football will bring our family back together. It has to.

THE END

Actually…this is the beginning!

Vaughn and Vilma’s love story began in the 1980s and their ending is the beginning of the bestselling Harris Brothers Series. Check out this complete series to see how the world of British football put this beautiful, broken family back together. Book 1 is Challenge!

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CALL ME HEATHER

* * *

BB EASTON

Copyright © 2020 by BB Easton

All rights reserved.

Edited by Jovana Shirley of Unforeseen Editing

No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ONE MORE STEP would mean certain death, sure, but this woman is not going to jump.

I should know. I’m her therapist.

Or I was, up until yesterday.

I pull my eyes away from my infuriating former client, standing on the roof of my Midtown office building in three-inch stilettos, and force myself to unclench my teeth so that I can speak to the police officer standing next to me.

“This is a ploy for attention, and you are playing right into her hands. Please, take your men and go back to the station. This is exactly what she wants.”

The uniformed officer folds his arms across his chest. “I can’t do that, sir.”

I let out an exasperated sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, where I can feel a vein beginning to bulge. I do not need this shit today. “You’re negotiating with a terrorist.”

“I’m negotiating with an emotionally unstable citizen who has threatened to splatter herself all over my jurisdiction if you don’t go up there and talk her down. Now, go. We don’t have all day, Doctor.” He says the word Doctor with such disdain that he might as well have substituted it with Dickhead.

“With all due respect, Officer, this is only going to reinforce her behavior. As her therapist—”

“As her therapist, you should know that I could have your goddamn license revoked for this. What the hell is wrong with you, man? Get up there and get your client!”

I crack my knuckles one by one as I march up the concrete stairs and shove my way through the heavy glass doors of the Atlanta Center for Behavioral Health. I’ve been a therapist here since 2013, and never have I had a client as maddening as this one. I should have cut her loose months ago when I realized what she truly was, but I didn’t.

And now, I’m paying the price.

I storm past the reception desk and security guard station, earning sympathetic looks from my helpless coworkers as I mash my finger into the glowing button next to the elevator.

One of the security guards clears his throat just before the doors open. “We’re here if you need us, Dr. Keaton.”

I snort under my breath as I enter the metal box that’s going to deliver me to the beast. The doors shut, and I press the button for the top floor.

“She won’t speak to anyone, Doctor,” the police officer told me when I finally came outside. “She wrote on a piece of paper that she’ll only talk to her therapist, Dr. Sterling Keaton. It says that if anyone else goes up there, she’ll jump.”

I watch my reflection shake its head in the mirrored elevator doors as I replay his words to me.

This is what I get.

I’ve devoted my entire adult life to helping people with mental health challenges. I spent almost all

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