Authors: Christy Reece
The soft knock on his door should’ve surprised him but didn’t. Kacie had a tenaciousness about her that refused to give up.
He didn’t bother answering, knowing it would do no good. She would come in whether he wanted her to or not.
Sure enough, seconds after she knocked, the door opened and she peeked inside. “Hey, I made some hot chocolate. Do you want marshmallows or whipped cream for your topping?”
He answered without the slightest hesitation. “Whipped cream.”
Her smile was so bright and engaging it took everything he had not to smile back. How in the hell did she do that?
“Be right back.”
Less than a minute later, she was back with a tray holding two mugs of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and a plateful of chocolate-chip cookies.
“Sometimes there’s no better comfort than chocolate with a side of chocolate.”
Setting the tray on the table beside his chair, she handed him a mug and then took one for herself. He was about to get up to offer her his chair when she pulled a large throw pillow from the bed and sat on the floor in front of him.
He took a swallow from his mug and made an appreciative noise.
She waited until he’d had his second swallow before she said, “I really am sorry for what happened tonight. I don’t know the details of your son’s death, but—”
“Why don’t you?”
“I told you that I—”
“I’m not talking about when it happened. Why haven’t you looked it up on the Internet? Are you not the least bit curious?”
“Of course I am.” She grimaced and confessed. “I did look you up the first day you came. But I didn’t really find what I was looking for.”
“What were you looking for?”
“The truth.”
She said it so simply, he had the wild urge to grab her up and hug her.
“Then I started feeling guilty and decided if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.”
And it was as straightforward as that, for her. To most other people, it would just be a matter of wanting to know something. But Kacie saw it as an invasion of privacy.
He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t face the compassion he heard in her voice. There was something so incredibly gentle about this woman, and he wasn’t a gentle man. She was his to protect, to keep safe. She couldn’t be more.
She did, however, deserve an explanation.
He drew in a breath, let it out slowly, and began. “I got hurt midseason of my second year. Busted my leg. Had surgery and went through rehab. And I—” He swallowed past a dry throat. “I lost myself. Got so caught up in me and what I thought I should be doing. I told myself that providing for my family was my most important role. To do that, I had to get better, get back out on the field. That was my only focus.
“Vanessa, my wife, said I was obsessed. She was right…I knew she was right, but I kept telling myself that once I got back into the game, my life would straighten out. Instead, it went to hell, and then it went farther.”
When Brennan went silent again, all Kacie could do was wait him out. He was finally sharing his pain with her, and she wouldn’t push him. Had he ever talked to anyone about what happened, or had he kept it all inside?
While she could identify with the agony in his eyes, his pain seemed almost too fresh. As if he hadn’t recovered or come to terms with his tragedy. Not that she knew anything about being a parent or coming to terms with losing a child. But she did know that talking helped. She hoped he would continue.
After several long minutes, he said, “I was at home when the call came. Things were about to get better for us. I’d finished all my rehab, and I was one hundred percent again. I was due back at training camp the next day, ready to show everyone, my coaches, the owners, that I was fully recovered and ready to retake my position.
“When the phone rang, I figured it was Vanessa wishing me luck. She’d taken our son, Cody, to visit her parents in Florida. We weren’t exactly on speaking terms at that point, but again, I’d told myself when I got my job back, things would be better.
“The call wasn’t from Vanessa. It was a ransom call. The man said that he’d kidnapped Cody and if I didn’t do what he said, he’d kill my son.”
He stopped to pull in a ragged breath, and Kacie put her hand over his and squeezed it, in sympathy and support.
“He demanded $3.2 million. I asked questions, kept insisting I had to talk to Cody.”
He stopped, rubbed the middle of his forehead, then said, “I got to talk to him…my son…maybe about five seconds. Just enough for me to confirm it was Cody…just enough for me to hear how terrified he was.
“The guy came back on the phone, refused to answer any questions. Just told me if I contacted the cops, my son would die.
“As soon as he hung up, I called Vanessa. She was in hysterics, said that she’d stopped at an ATM for money and had left Cody in the car for just a few minutes. When she came back to the car, he was gone.
“I told her about the ransom call, what the guy wanted. She told me I had to pay it. Told me if I called the cops and the guy killed Cody, it would be all my fault.” He shook his head. “So I didn’t call anyone. But I didn’t have access to that much money either. At least not anymore. A few days before that, I’d bought a vacation home in Colorado. Was going to surprise Vanessa and Cody. I wasn’t exactly broke, but I didn’t have easy access to a lot of cash. I had some stocks and short-term investments I could sell, but it wasn’t going to be quick.
“When the man called back, I agreed to do whatever he said but told him it would take a few days for me to get that much cash together. He screamed at me, told me he knew I was lying.
“Things got heated. I swore to him that I was telling the truth. He hung up and I went crazy. After I calmed down, I knew I had no choice but to call the police.
“When they arrived and interviewed me, they asked me a lot of questions. Some really weird ones. The more they asked, the more it got me to thinking. Why such a specific number, $3.2 million? Why not four million or just three? Who but my wife knew how much we had in savings?
“And why would Vanessa leave Cody in the car when she’d had a fit more than once when she saw other parents do the same thing.”
“Oh no,” Kacie whispered.
“I know Vanessa never intended for Cody to be hurt. Her intent was to get all the money she could from me. Then, once Cody was back home and safe, she would file for divorce. Since I was gone a good part of the year, she figured it’d be easy for her to get full custody.”
“But why not get the money in a divorce settlement? Why make it so complicated?”
“We had a prenup. Very simplistic, which, funnily enough, she was the one who insisted we have one. When we got married, her career was on the rise, and she believed it was only going to go higher. So if our marriage ended, she would keep what was hers, I would keep what was mine.”
“But that’s not what happened, is it? You began to make more money…she made less. But this way, she could get your money and hers, too.”
“Yeah…at least that was her plan. Something she didn’t consider was the guy she’d hooked up with was certifiable. When I told him it’d take me some time to get the money, he figured Vanessa had lied to him.” Brennan swallowed hard. “So he freaked and ran.”
“What did he do to Cody?” she asked gently.
“Tied him up, force-fed him sedatives, and left him to die in the trunk of a car.”
Kacie closed her eyes against the tears. How any person could hurt a child was incomprehensible. And this had been so deliberate, so very cold-hearted.
“What happened to the monster who did that?”
“Police found him at his parents’ house outside Lexington, Kentucky. Had a shootout. He’s dead.”
“And Vanessa? Was she with him?”
“No. Vanessa came home, acted innocent. The police grilled her, and she denied everything. It was when they found Cody that she broke down. Blamed me for making her have to go to such extremes to get my attention. Said that’s what it’d all been about.
“She was arrested and charged with kidnapping, accessory to murder. She was staying with her parents, awaiting trial when she decided she’d rather not. So she took a load of pills and never woke up.”
Kacie couldn’t decide which was more sickening, Vanessa’s blind greed or her exceedingly poor judgment. Not that it mattered now. A child was dead, and his father was broken.
She wanted to reach out to him, comfort him in some way. Hold him if he’d let her. She knew he wouldn’t. So she sat, continued to hold his hand, and listened.
“I don’t think she could ever forgive herself. And neither could I.”
He gave a jagged, humorless chuckle. “Lorrance was right about one thing. A lot of people did think I was in on it. That I’d arranged the whole thing so if things didn’t work out with getting my position back, the sympathy would put me back on the team. Some even speculated I was responsible for Vanessa’s death, too.”
“That’s absolutely absurd. No one with any sense would believe that.”
“Vanessa’s parents had a lot to do with their thinking.”
“How so?”
“First they were grieving for a grandson, then defending their daughter. And then grieving for her, too. It only made sense that they blame me. My in-laws had a lot of influence with their local paper. It got picked up and spread like wildfire. Guess it was easier for them to blame me than come to terms with what their daughter had done.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Afraid he would say no, she asked anyway, “Why have you never defended yourself? I didn’t do a lot of research, but from what I did see, you never granted even one interview.”
“At first I didn’t give a damn. I’d lost my son, and even though the law never considered me a suspect, I blamed myself. I couldn’t talk about it to anyone, not even my parents.
“I went back to work…had no problem earning my position back. But I had nothing left to give. I was empty inside. So, I just quit.”
“But the fans wouldn’t forgive you?”
“Lots of people take their football seriously. They’d wanted a championship and thought I was their best bet. People were pissed.”
From what she’d read, that was a major understatement. The
I hate Brennan Sinclair
bandwagon was still alive and well even after all these years.
“Maybe if you gave an interview…explained what happened, they would—”
“Would what, Kacie? Like me again? Do you think being liked matters to me now?”
“No, I don’t. But seeing you treated the way that Carlton Lorrance did today makes me sick.”
“Why?”
She jerked back, surprised at the ridiculous question. “Because it’s not fair.”
“Why do you care?”
Oh, that was a subject she wasn’t even close to being ready to discuss. This man brought out so many feelings and emotions in her—feelings she’d never experienced and emotions she’d never believed she’d be able to have.
Instead of telling him that, she told him another truth. “I don’t like to see good people get hurt. And in spite of that gruff, growly exterior of yours, you are a good person.”
“How the hell does someone who’s been through what you’ve endured stay so sweet?”
She gave him a sad smile. “Staying sweet was never in the cards. Before Harrington, I don’t believe I had a sweet bone in my body. But after…” She shook her head. “I still don’t think I’m sweet, but I do like to smile, be happy.
“I know that sounds simplistic and kind of trite. I don’t mean it that way. It’s just I was so miserable for so long, I had to make a conscious decision that I was put on this earth for a reason other than to feel sorry for myself. I survived. There had to be a reason.”
“What do you think that reason was?”
“I know what you’re thinking. Being a model, wearing gorgeous clothes, making a lot of money isn’t exactly Mother Teresa behavior.”
“I don’t think you have to be a nun to do good things.”
“Exactly. I told you I wanted to be a model to prove that I could actually do it, but I also realized that I could have an incredible influence on young women this way. Skylar was a great example of that.”
“Is that why you went with the girl-next-door persona?”
“Kind of but not totally. When I went to modeling classes, my instructors kept referring to me as the fresh-faced one. I thought, why not? It’s different from the sexy, sultry models. And in this business, different can make a splash if it’s done right. So, when I started getting my portfolio ready, that’s the look I told the photographer I wanted.
“Young girls are bombarded daily about what’s sexy or attractive. I wanted to be a different kind of beautiful.” She shrugged. “I like not having to wear tons of makeup or show a lot of skin. And I like that young girls are able to see that simplicity can be even more beautiful than overt sexuality.”
“What do you do in your spare time?”
“I spend a lot of time with my charity. I occasionally do speaking engagements. Last year I taught a class at NYU on modeling.”