She recognized a few of the other women from the scavenger hunt, as well. She spotted Allison, Elvin's girlfriend, and met Tania Ford, Rodney's wife. Rodney was one of the offensive linesmen, and she'd interviewed him already.
She was introduced to the rest of them, and just hoped she'd remember all the names.
"What would you like to drink?" Sally asked. "We have wine, margaritas, iced tea, and water."
"I'd love some wine."
"Come choose which one," Sally said, and Haven chose a sauvignon blanc.
Sally poured her a glass.
The kitchen also smelled great. She didn't know what Sally was cooking, but she couldn't imagine having to fix dinner for all these people.
"Is there something I can do to help with dinner?"
"No, thank you, Haven. We've got that under control. Steaks and chicken are already fixed and are warming, and the ladies here all brought sides. It's an easy meal tonight."
"Oh, Trevor didn't tell me to bring a side. I'm so sorry."
Sally laid her hand on Haven's arm. "You weren't required to bring anything. Just sit back and enjoy your wine."
Haven took a seat at the table.
For a while, she sat and listened to the women chat. Being an outsider, she wanted to get a feel for the group. Many of these women had been together for a lot of years. It showed, too, as they talked kids and husbands and boyfriends and team wins and losses. They talked about the games and the guys traveling and what team they'd be playing next.
These women knew their football--and their players--an angle Haven hadn't considered before. But it was in her head now, and it was something she wanted to explore.
"You haven't said much, Haven," Felicia said. "I hope we're not boring you."
"Quite the contrary, actually. I was listening to all of you talk about football. I don't know how many of you know this about me, but I'm actually a sports reporter for a network. I'm working with Trevor doing an extensive interview about his life and career."
Tania raised a brow. "Really? That should be interesting. And informative. And a ton of fun."
Haven laughed. "It has been--all of those things. Anyway, as I've been listening to all of you, it occurred to me that there's so much about the wives and girlfriends of the players that's unknown--or possibly misrepresented. You really know your football. All the teams and all the players. I'd love to do a story about all of you."
Sally frowned. "A story about us? Why?"
"I think you're all fascinating. Kind of a behind-the-player--or the-woman-behind-the-player type of feature. Even the coaches' wives as well. I don't really have it all figured out yet, but you all know so much about football. Not just what your guy does, but you have an in-depth knowledge about the other players on the team, and the other teams Tampa plays. It's impressive."
Amanda laughed. "If you're going to date or marry a football player--or in my case, a coach--you'd better know football. We don't just go to the mall when our guys are playing football. I love football. I loved the sport before I met George. Having someone involved in football was just icing."
"That's true," Tania said. "I love that Rodney plays football, but I was a sports nut before he and I ever met. My dad played college football, too. It was ingrained in me from childhood."
And it was those types of human interest stories that would make for a great piece. "If you all are interested, when I'm done with Trevor's story, I'll take down your numbers and get back to you."
They all looked to each other, and she got an immediate positive response.
She thought about the Rivers team as well. Liz, who was a sports agent. Alicia, who also worked for the Rivers. Tara, who owned her own company. So many women rich with experience on their own, but who also knew their players and the team so well.
This could be a great interview.
TREVOR WAS DEEP IN CONVERSATION WITH LARRY, George, and the other receivers, talking strategy and potential plans of attack, when Sally came in with the women.
"Okay, gentlemen. Dinner is ready, so it's time to take a break. We want to eat before the Thursday night game starts, don't we?"
Larry raised his head. "Yeah, we sure do, honey. Come on, guys."
Trevor found Haven in the kitchen. She handed him a plate.
"How's it going?" he asked.
Her lips tilted. "Very well, actually. How about you?"
"Great. We don't get a chance during practice to have intense meetings like this. It's helpful to get away from the field and just talk about how we're going to approach it."
"Good to know."
They found a seat at the dining room table. Trevor ate steak, potatoes, and broccoli. And then went back for more.
"Hungry?" Haven asked.
"A little. Worked up an appetite at practice today."
"And it's a good thing you burn it all off at practice, too."
"It's how I keep my figure."
She laughed.
"This is all so delicious," Haven said to Sally, who was sitting on the other side of her.
"Thank you. We try to do this a couple times a season. It's good for George to have a sit-down with his receivers. And of course, for all of us women to get together somewhere besides the stadium."
"I told Sally I wanted to do a piece on the women of football," Haven said to Trevor.
"The women of football? You mean there aren't enough guys?" Rodney asked her.
"Oh, there are plenty of you. But your women have interesting stories to tell."
"Indeed we do," Tania said with a smile.
"That could be a great angle," Trevor said.
"I think so," Haven said. "And speaking of interesting stories, when I was reviewing your bio I noticed you have the Greater Tampa literacy project as one of your charities."
"I do."
"I made arrangements for you to do a reading with some of their kids next week as part of the interview. You'll go in and read to a few of the kids. I think it'll make for a great human interest piece."
Trevor's fork stilled on its way to his mouth. "What?"
"Oh, that's a wonderful idea, Haven," Allison said. "Several of our guys are invested in this project."
"Is that right? Maybe some of them could come along and read as well. If you could tell me who they are, I'll make contact with them and see if they're interested."
"I'm sure they will be. All the guys involved with the charity would love to have some focus turned on it. Isn't that right, Trevor?"
Trevor could barely focus on what Allison and Haven were saying. All he heard was Haven saying they'd film him reading to the kids.
He couldn't do it.
"Uh, yeah. Sure."
His throat had gone dry, his dinner now a brick sitting in his stomach.
He had to find a way to get out of this.
The rest of the night passed in a blur until it was time to say their good-byes. They climbed into the car and Trevor was dead silent on the drive back.
"It was fun tonight, wasn't it?" Haven finally asked.
"Yeah."
"I really liked all the women. And I have such a fantastic idea for a new story to present to my producer."
"That's good." He gripped the steering wheel, focusing on the road, the cars ahead of him, trying to keep his attention on driving, while at the same time his mind whirled with ways to get out of what Haven had planned for him.
Fortunately, she'd been busy making notes on her phone, so she stopped talking to him.
He needed time alone. He had to think, to figure a way to back out of this. But how was he going to do that without coming across as a dick?
Damn Haven for putting him in this position. Why couldn't she have asked him first?
By the time he pulled into the parking garage of the house, he was angry and on edge. He tossed his keys on the counter and went to the fridge to grab a beer.
Haven fixed herself a glass of ice water, then took a seat on the sofa in the living room.
&nb
sp; "You were really quiet on the drive back here."
He took several swallows of beer, not saying anything to her. He needed a minute or two to calm down, hoping the beer would help.
He stopped at the door to the back deck and stared into the darkness, taking another drink of beer.
"Trevor. Is something wrong?"
Anger boiled inside him, looking for a way out. He tried to contain it, but he turned to face her. "You made a decision without consulting me."
She blinked. "Excuse me? What decision?"
"The literacy event."
"What about it? I thought you'd be happy."
He took a deep breath. "You shouldn't have booked that without consulting me."
"Why not? Is there some problem with the organization?"
"No. They're a great organization. That's why they're one of the charities I support."
"Then I don't understand the problem."
He saw her frown, and he knew he wasn't getting his point across.
And he knew why. Because there was something he wasn't telling her, something he couldn't tell her without divulging his secret.
He dragged his fingers through his hair. "I can't do it."
"Okay. Care to explain why?"
"No. Just cancel it."
He finished his beer and tossed the bottle in the recycling bin. It hadn't helped, so he grabbed another out of the refrigerator.
Haven got up and came over to him. "Trevor, I can tell you're upset about this. Talk to me."
He pushed past her and opened the door to the back deck, needing the cool night air to clear his head. He walked all the way out to the boat dock and sat.
Haven followed, pulling up a spot next to him.
"I've never seen you this upset. Please tell me what's wrong."
Instead, he downed half the contents of his bottle of beer, looking for a solution in oblivion. Maybe if he got drunk, his problem would go away.
"I don't want to talk about this."
"I think you should. Tell me why you don't want to do this story. If it's something about the facility . . ."
"It's not the facility. They're great."
"Then what is it?"
The last thing he wanted right now was to listen to her calm, concerned voice. He pushed off the dock, needing to get away from Haven. He went into the house, but he heard her right on his heels, quietly shutting the door behind her.
"Not now, Haven," he said, not even looking at her.
"I'm not going away, Trevor."
His blood boiling, he whipped around to face her. "Maybe you should."
The hurt and confusion on her face was evident. "What?"
"I think we're done here."
She paused for a second, then shook her head. "Oh, no. You don't get to push me away that easily. Something's bothering you, and it has nothing to do with you and me. So tell me what's up."
He shook his head. "I'm going to bed."
He tossed the empty beer bottle in the bin and headed up the stairs, intending to lock himself in his room, cowardly avoiding a confrontation with Haven. But she hurried in front of him on the stairs, blocking him.
"I'm not going to let you do this, Trevor. Talk to me."
"I don't have anything to say."
"Don't avoid me. Don't avoid this."
"There's nothing to avoid. I'm pissed you went behind my back and scheduled something you shouldn't have. It's as simple as that."
"No, it's not that simple. You're afraid. I can see it in your face. Now tell me what's going on, because I'm not going to let this drop."
They stood on the landing, right in front of her bedroom. He could push her out of the way and he sure as hell could outrun her. And yeah, he could hide in his room, but she'd still be there in the morning, asking the same goddamn questions.
"Leave it alone, Haven."
She grasped his hand. "I'm worried about you, Trevor. I've never seen you so upset. Please talk to me. Come to my room and talk to me."
She tugged on his hand, but he refused to yield.
If he told her, it would change everything.
No one knew. Brad knew, but he had to know. His agent knew as well.
They were the only ones.
Besides his parents, of course. And Zane.
But he'd never told anyone. Deliberately, he'd never told anyone.
His throat felt like it was closing up. It was hard to swallow. His heart pounded against his rib cage. He couldn't do this.
"Trevor. Why can't you do the literacy event?"
He could barely feel her squeezing his hand as he finally blurted out the words he'd sworn he'd never say to anyone else.
"Because I can't goddamn read."
THIRTY-ONE
HAVEN'S BREATH CAUGHT. IT WAS AS IF TIME HAD stood still for those few seconds after Trevor had told her he couldn't read.
"What?"
His shoulders slumped, the words barely audible. "Don't make me say it again."
She saw the pain etched into his features, the agony it must have cost him to admit that. "You can't read? That's impossible. I tutored you in college."
He finally sat on the stairs. Slumped in defeat was more like it, as if a balloon had burst. He had no fight left in him.
And she'd made him admit it. She felt awful.
She kneeled in front of him and said it again. "I tutored you. In English. History. Math."
"Easy enough to fake it. You did all the work. And I can read some. Just not good. I get confused. So I just . . . don't."
Oh, God. Tears pricked her eyes. She hadn't even noticed. She'd been so focused on her crush on him, on her irritation with him being the hotshot athlete who'd wanted to bargain with her to help him pass his classes, she hadn't paid attention to why he'd been struggling so much.
She'd thought he was lazy. Her stomach tightened as the guilt poured over her.
She laid her hands on his knees. "How bad is it?"
"Bad."
Then it hit her. The ridiculous organization in his refrigerator, the fact he hadn't read the contract his lawyer had brought him. She'd never actually seen him read anything. He played some games on his phone, but that day he'd made her punch in a phone number on hers.
It was starting to click.
"What about your playbook? I know football players have to learn a playbook."
"My agent and my lawyer know. They helped me through it, taught it to me play by play. Besides, there are pictures in the playbook. Fewer words. It's easier to understand."
For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, then reopened them. "That's why you chose the literacy group as one of your charities."
"Yeah. But I can't read to those kids. I can't let people find out about this."
"You can be taught to read, Trevor. I can help you."
He stood and started backing up the stairs. "No. Oh, fuck no. It's too late for me."
She stood, too, looked up at him. "It's not too late for you. It's never too late. You can't give up on yourself."
"Look. It's bad enough that you know. I don't want anyone else to know, and I hope you know this is off the record. If you try to put this in your interview, I'll sue both you personally and the network."
She gasped, horrified he'd think that of her. "Do you really think I'd use something as personal as this to get ahead in my job?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, Haven. Would you?"
She wanted to slap him, but she knew it was hurt and defensiveness causing him to lash out like this. "I wouldn't, and you know me. I would never hurt you that way. I'm trying to help you."
"You can help me by canceling the event at the literacy center. Tell them there was a scheduling conflict."
She shook her head. "I think it would only help you to--"
"You've helped enough. We're done here."
He turned around and started up the stairs.
Haven read the finality in his statement. She dashed up and got in front of him, laying her hand on his c
hest, forcing him to stop and face her. "Done here? What do you mean?"
The severity in his expression cut her deeply. There was no warmth, no caring there. She saw . . . nothing.
"I mean we're done. I have to concentrate on football, and you have enough footage to finish up your interview. Why don't you pack it up and leave."
And just like that, he was pushing her out of his life. She knew why, but it still hurt to hear him say the words.
"Trevor. Don't do this."
"You can stay tonight, but tomorrow I want you out of here."
"Don't. Please, don't. We can fix this together. I'll help you."
He didn't budge. She saw no emotion. It was like he'd completely closed off from her, from feeling anything. "Haven. You need to go."
She'd never seen that look on his face, the way he'd just completely shut down. Part of her wanted to push through, to refuse to leave until he saw reason. The other part of her hurt so badly because he didn't trust her, didn't care enough about her--about the both of them--to even try.
She wanted to beg him to let her stay so she could help him through this.
But why? It was clear he wanted nothing more to do with her. He'd made it nearly thirty years without her, and he intended to go without her. He didn't need or want her help.
He didn't want her. And she sure as hell wasn't going to beg him to let her stay.
"Fine. I'll be gone in the morning."
He gave a short nod. "I think that's best."
"Me, too." She turned and went to her room and shut the door, then entered the bathroom and turned on the water in the sink.
She looked into the mirror, seeing the unshed tears shimmer in her eyes.
Screw Trevor. She was not going to cry over him.
She leaned over the sink to wash her face as big, fat tears slid down her cheeks.
Oh, damn. Maybe she was going to cry over him after all.
THIRTY-TWO
HAVEN STAYED UP LATE TO FILE HER LATEST PRODUCTION notes and photos and to make plane reservations.
It wasn't like she was going to get any sleep anyway.
She'd cried for an hour, miserable and unhappy and wishing like crazy that Trevor would knock on her door and tell her he was an asshole and beg her forgiveness.
Ha. That hadn't happened.
She'd made plane reservations, but not back to New York.
She took a flight to Oklahoma, and arrived at her mother's house the next evening.
Her mother was surprised to see her, and as soon as she saw her mom, the tears came again.
She hadn't wanted to cry in front of her mom. Her intent was to spend a couple of days there, regroup emotionally, then be on her way.