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I’m not a hop on social media for a live video kind of guy. I prefer my privacy, as noted in my statement.
I click off the app, glad that’s taken care of, and I realize maybe a moment too late that while I named Sam, I never named Jolene. It’s in part for her protection, but also because I’m not quite ready to admit anything publicly. Too many prying eyes are watching our every move, and if people want to formulate rumors based on that, well, maybe they should get a life and stop studying mine.
But still…I hope she’s not hurt by that. The last thing I’m trying to do here is hurt her.
Once my statement is posted, I decide to tackle the phone calls.
I start with Spencer.
“You okay?” he answers.
“I’m fine, thanks. You?”
“Yeah. Good. I just called earlier to check on you.”
“As has everyone,” I say a little dryly.
“You want to tell me what’s really going on?”
“No. Jolene and I reconnected in secret, and that’s that on that.” I blow out a heavy breath.
“That can’t be that on that. What did Dad say?”
“I called you first,” I admit. “Figured you’d go easiest on me.”
“Yeah, well, you’re probably right about that. But he’s going to force us all to choose sides in this. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” I mutter, my voice strained. And when they’re forced to choose sides, how many of my brothers will choose mine?
My father is a different father to the three of them, and after thirty-six years, I think I finally understand why.
They were choices he made. I was not.
I was a surprise. A shock. I was the sole reason that forced him into doing what he thought was the right thing—marrying my mother, having more kids, building a family, and even now, as I study them and see all the cracks there, I can’t help but wonder if even he thinks he chose wrong, something he obviously blames me for.
I clear my throat. “Anyway, how are you? You ready for the season?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he says. “You?”
“We’re ready. All this is merely a distraction.” I hear footsteps outside my office, and I see Megan when she appears in my doorway. “I need to go. Go kick ass on the field, Spence.”
“You too, Linc.”
We hang up, and that’s one down, four more calls to go—one to Grayson, one to Asher, and one to each of my parents, unless I’m blessed enough to catch them together, which seems less and less likely these days.
My eyes are on my assistant, who should be at home by now. “What are you doing here?”
She twists her lips as she leans on my doorframe. “I was across the street with some friends and saw your car here,” she admits. “I just wanted to check on you. I saw your Instagram post.”
I nod. “I’m fine, thanks.”
She steps into my office and perches on the chair across from me. “I had a feeling, you know. About you and Jolene. You could’ve told me.”
“It was private, and I still don’t really want to talk about it. The only reason I am is because I’m being forced to defend myself against ridiculous allegations,” I admit.
“Right, but I could’ve helped protect you. I could’ve done…I don’t know. Something.” She shrugs, and she looks a little helpless.
“Like exit my hotel room giving off a certain impression at the vineyard?” I press.
