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I pour a rather large tumbler of whiskey for myself and a glass of wine for her, and it’s probably only been about ninety seconds when I hear the doorbell ring.
“Fuck,” I mutter, and I head over to the door to get rid of whoever is visiting me at this late hour when all I want is some time alone with Jolene.
I see my brother standing on my porch when I glance through the peephole, and I open the door.
He’s wearing normal clothes this time, which tells me he’s been wearing those dumb outfits to purposely irk me, but the expression on his face is not normal at all.
“Is Sam here?” he demands when he walks past me as I hold the door open.
I shake my head. Maybe he saw her car out on the street in front of the house and that’s why he asked, but I can’t tell him who really is here. He didn’t ask, though. He asked specifically about Sam.
“Good,” he says. “Because I need your help. I’m in a lot of trouble.”
I’m about to warn him that we aren’t alone before he starts talking, but he plows forward.
And the very last thing I need is someone from the media overhearing his next words.
CHAPTER 33: JOLENE
“I need your help. I’m in a lot of trouble.” I hear Asher’s voice, and clearly he thinks Lincoln is alone and he’s confessing something to his brother who just happens to be his head coach.
I don’t want to listen to them. It’s a private conversation not meant for me, and certainly not meant for a reporter, so I step back into Lincoln’s room even though Asher’s voice carries up the hallway.
And I hear everything he says next.
“I’m in deep with some bookies. I need money, and I don’t know where else to turn.”
Holy shit.
My eyes widen at his confession as my stomach twists.
“What were you betting on?” Lincoln demands.
Asher clears his throat loudly. “Games. I made a shit load when we won, but I bet on the second game and we lost, and, well…here I am.”
“What the fuck, man?” Lincoln practically roars.
Oh my God. I should not be overhearing this. What do I do?
I panic, and I freeze.
I can’t know this stuff. I’m with the media, and I promised Marcus when I confessed that Lincoln and I have a secret relationship that I would report fairly and honestly, and now this breaking story falls right into my lap?
I can’t report on this. I can’t. It would only worsen the feud between our families and put both Asher’s and Lincoln’s careers in jeopardy, and I won’t do that.
Besides, Lincoln will do the right thing. He has to. I realize it’s his brother, but it’s also his team at stake here. It’s his responsibility to report player misconduct, and I just don’t see him as the guy who sweeps these things under the rug.
“Listen to me, Asher,” I hear Lincoln say. He lowers his voice, and I can’t make out his next words.
I draw in a deep breath and slowly exhale, and I wait upstairs until I hear the front door open and close again.
“Who was that?” I ask brightly when I walk down the stairs, and I know it’s too bright considering what just happened, but I’m not that good of an actress.
“A player,” he grunts, and he really thinks I didn’t hear a thing.
I feel a twist in my back that he didn’t tell me the truth—or, at the very least, that he’s lying by omission.
“Ready for that glass of wine?” he asks, and I nod. “Start without me. I have to take care of something. I’ll be right back.” He disappears down the hall toward his office, and I hear the door click shut as I head into the kitchen to wait for him.
