The Safe Bet (The Game Changers #3)

The Safe Bet

 

The Game Changer Series

Book Three

 

 

Shealy James

 

 

The Safe Bet

 

Copyright © 2015 by Shealy James.

All rights reserved.

First Print Edition: December 2015

 

 

Limitless Publishing, LLC

Kailua, HI 96734

www.limitlesspublishing.com

 

Formatting: Limitless Publishing

 

ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-426-4

ISBN-10: 1-68058-426-X

 

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

 

“Fear is a powerful motivator. It’s also the scariest.”

~Damien Rush, Class of 2015

 

“Fear makes us wish for the best and hope we are brave when the bad comes.”

~Katherine Peters, Bestselling Author of Two Dimensions

 

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

~Franklin D. Roosevelt

 

“The only thing we have to fear is other people.”

~Reagan Anders

 

“The only thing we have to fear are the demons within ourselves.”

~David Anders

 

“Fear is the first step toward regret.”

~Brock Anderson

 

“There’s so much in the world to make me bleed.”

~Pearl Jam, “Just Breathe”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

August 1991

 

My parents swore it was the happiest place on earth. It even said so on the brochure. Walking hand-in-hand in the park, I felt it. We headed straight toward the most amazing castle I had ever seen. It was the only castle I had ever seen in person, but even the ones I saw in books weren’t as amazing as this one. Mickey was there, Minnie too. There were pirates and princesses and Dumbo! My mom held me tightly against her as we flew on Dumbo’s back. My dad screamed wildly on a roller coaster that really wasn’t scary. I was starting to believe the hype.

It was later in the day when Daddy took me on a ride without my mom. She said she was going to buy us some ice cream for when we finished the ride. I thought nothing could wipe the smile off my face. We were led by smiling workers onto a boat ride. Somehow we ended up all alone in the big boat. My dad sat behind me. “You can drive, Reagan. Just don’t hit anything.”

“I don’t know how to drive a boat, Daddy.” He was so silly.

He laughed happily in a way that dads only laugh for their daughters. “It’s a good thing the ride does it for us, then. All you have to do is sit back and relax.”

I didn’t want to relax. I bounced back and forth in my seat, trying to see everything. My dad was quiet as I pointed my favorite things out to him. By the end of the ride I was singing the repetitive song along with the high-pitched voices coming through the speakers.

We exited, and my dad took my hand in his to guide me to a bench. I didn’t know where my mom was, but he assured me she would be there soon.

“You heard that song, right?”

I began singing it again. He shushed me, then his smile turned serious. “It’s true, you know? It is a small world. Once someone enters your life, they never really leave it.”

“Okay, Daddy.” I went to start the song again, but he pressed a finger to my lips, quieting me once more.

“Reagan, I’m trying to tell you something important.”

I frowned and looked up at his eyes. I could see now that my fearless father was sad. He even looked scared, but that couldn’t be right. Dads weren’t afraid of anything.

“I knew someone a long time ago, Reagan. She was the love of my life.”

“No. Me and Mom are the loves of your life. You said so.”

“I do love you, but I was mistaken. Like the song says, it really is a small world, and I ran into Clara a few months ago. It was a sign, Reagan. You only cross paths with people from your past if they are really meant to be in your life. Clara was the one that got away until now. She was my high school sweetheart, my first love that I never got over. You’ll understand what I mean when you’re older. There are some loves from which you never recover.”

“What about Mom?”

“I don’t love your mom like that, and she knows it.”

“I don’t understand, Daddy.”

“We, your mom and me, decided it’s best if I don’t live with you two anymore.”

“Why?”

“I love Clara, so I’m going to live with her now. You need to be strong for your mom, Reagan.”

“But Daddy…”

“I’m sorry, Reagan.”

“But you love me!”

The look on my daddy’s face was like he was looking at a big hairy spider rather than his only daughter crying in the middle of Disneyland. “Now, don’t cry, Reagan. You’ll make a scene.”

“But you love me,” I whimpered softly this time.

“It’s a small world, Reagan. We’ll see each other again.”

My dad stood from the bench and moved to walk away. I broke down screaming. “No, Daddy!”

This time there was no mistaking the expression on his face. He was disgusted with me. He walked away just as I felt my mom grab me from behind and hold me against her body.

Then she yelled after him, “You told her here? Today of all days? We agreed you’d wait.”

He quickly turned, still walking away backwards. “I thought it’d be easier. I was wrong. Sorry.”

This time when he shrugged and turned away, I screamed until tears blinded me and my throat hurt. My mom pressed my face against her and lifted my ten-year-old body from the ground. I was too big to be carried, but sometimes a girl just needed her mom to hold her. The day my father left, I needed more than the comfort from my mother to make me feel better. Ice cream and Disneyland didn’t help either. It was truly the unhappiest place on earth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

Now

 

“Reagan’s doing well. She’s right here,” Jordan said into the phone. “You want to talk to her?” I glanced over, wondering who he could possibly be speaking to that would want anything to do with me. Even though we had lived together for over a decade, we led pretty separate lives. I had my awesome people that actually took advantage of sunlight, and he had his gamer friends who preferred Mineclash or whatever the dumb game was called to the outdoors.

“Oh? She grew tomatoes, huh?”

Ah. It was our father—well his father, my sperm donor. I hadn’t bothered with my father in years while Jordan still called him weekly. I wasn’t sure why Jordan bothered to ask if he wanted to speak to me since we stopped acknowledging each other years ago. If I were to guess, Dad of the Year quickly changed the subject when Jordan mentioned my name.

I rolled my eyes when Jordan added another absent comment about his mother’s ridiculous new gardening endeavor. Every time a vegetable appears, his mother and our shared giver of DNA felt it was worthy of a celebration. If only he had felt that excited about his daughter…

Instead of sticking around to hear more about the glorious tomatoes, I headed to my room to change, then snuck out to our garage gym to punch the bag until I had once again forgotten my father existed and the euphoria from my good day had returned.

My father fell firmly in the category of the fool-me-thrice men. They were the ones who I let disappoint me waaaay too many times. These were the relationships that went beyond “shame on me.” They were more along the lines of, “Reagan, you’re a fucking moron if you let these rat bastards within five hundred feet of you ever again.”

As I stood in front of the bag, I let years of disappointment wash over me.

Jab.

The first birthday he forgot.

Cross.

My high school graduation.

Kick.

My mother crying every time she hung up the phone after trying yet again to reach out to him.

Jab.

Son.

Cross.

Of.

Kick.

A.

Kick. Kick. Kick.

Nutcracker!

I kept up the pace until my workout was fueled by an intrinsic motivation to kick ass rather than a hate for the Let-Down King. Simply thinking of my father put a dark cloud over me until I released some serious endorphins. I shouldn’t have needed this kind of workout today of all days. The cute guy that owned the restaurant on the edge of the pier added a wink to his wave as he walked by my store this morning. I was cleaning my huge bay window just in time to see him strip his wetsuit in the parking lot after his morning surf, as was our routine. I never missed a showing of Restaurant Guy’s strip tease, and he never failed to give me his signature grin at the end of it. We never spoke, though. I checked him out every morning, then he’d wave, and we would go about our days until he stood at his bar and watched me lock up after a shift. I usually shot a flirty smile his way as I left. I couldn’t just ignore the poor sap. It would be rude, and the flirting from afar was fun. It was exciting, and no one’s heart was in any way involved, just how I liked it.

My friend Melanie had been trying to convince me to talk to Restaurant Guy for a while now. I wouldn’t allow myself to ruin the game. I was happy in my quiet little world, and I didn’t need someone to come along and mess up the balance I had spent years creating. I did text her about the wink just to let her think I was making progress. She replied asking if she could tell me his name yet, to which I gave her a firm no. If I knew his name then we would be one step closer to meeting, and everyone knew it was all downhill from there.

All my good feelings from Restaurant Guy’s wink faded the second Jordan mentioned those tomatoes. I knew I’d be sore and bruised tomorrow after my workout, but this was why I started kickboxing in the first place—to relieve pent-up frustration. Endorphins, people. It was the way to go.

Jordan lowered the blaring Eminem song to a more reasonable decibel when he stepped into the garage.

“So, New Guy thinks I’m weird,” Jordan announced, ignoring the elephant in the room. I wasn’t surprised. Not only did we never talk about our father after Jordan supposedly repaired his relationship with him, but I had also been hearing about New Guy for weeks. He started at Jordan’s company a month or so ago and was deemed the nickname befitting the newest guy at his work. I couldn’t tell you his name, but I could tell you he was good at his job of improving and marketing the app Jordan’s company created. He also surfed and climbed in his free time. Jordan was suddenly considering taking up rock climbing. The image of my gamer brother climbing rocks gave me the giggles every time I thought of it. Don’t get me wrong. Jordan was in decent shape for an indoorsy guy, but his hands were soft, you know?

Usually Jordan did his very limited face-to-face socialization with his girlfriend, Zoe. At the beginning I couldn’t even believe he landed a girl as great as Zoe, but somehow he had managed to get her attention and keep it over the past few years. Otherwise, his online gamer friends that were likely twelve-year-olds acted as his connection to the world. Then one day, out of nowhere, he went out for beers with New Guy and came back with a bromance of epic proportions. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before New Guy would be gracing the rest of us with his presence.

“Did you hear me?”

“You are weird,” I confirmed simply while unwrapping my hands. Eh, not too bad. Just red. No blood.

He rolled his eyes at my immaturity. I ignored him like usual and threw on the t-shirt I had draped over the chair by the door. I couldn’t work out in loose clothes. It was an accident waiting to happen. I was an accident waiting to happen.

Once I was sufficiently unwrapped and covered, I headed back into the house for some after-workout treats, still pretending Jordan wasn’t following me. He didn’t speak again until I was sitting on the couch drinking soda and eating cheese puffs. He uncharacteristically overlooked the fact that my feet were on the furniture, and I was all sweaty. He had a one-track mind, but I was sure the reminder to keep our immaculate furniture clean would follow as soon as he was finished beating this dead horse.

“Don’t you want to know why?” he continued. My brother could be really annoying.

“Because you gel your hair like it’s 1998?” Way to go, Reagan. That helped bring the maturity level of this situation up to at least high school level.

“No, and my hair is fine.”

“Because you still say the word ‘rad’ like it’s a normal word?” Now, I just couldn’t stop.

“Uh. I don’t say ‘rad.’”

“Because you secretly listen to Disney music when no one’s around?”

“I don’t do that either.”

“Sure you don’t,” I said, shoving another processed piece of cheesy deliciousness in my mouth. “Oh! I know. Is it because—”

“Reagan! I asked if you wanted to know. I didn’t say to guess.”

“Yes, but I have a feeling there’s a point to this that involves me getting made fun of, so I was getting my punches in first. I’m a winner, Jordan.”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Make your point, dear brother.”

“Ah, yes, my point. Thanks for allowing me to get back to this, Peter Pan. New Guy—”

“Peter Pan?” I interrupted, still not allowing him to spit out what he wanted to say.

I could see the frustration lines appearing on his face. That big nasty vein was starting to poke out, and his cheeks were red. “Because you never grow up.”

“Ha. I see. That’s clever for you, Jordo.”

“Reagan!”

Battle won. Time to move on.

“Sorry. Proceed.”

“Ugh,” he groaned. “New Guy thinks it’s weird for me to live with my sister.”

“Are you telling me you want me to move out?” I sat up straight, letting my jaw drop. A loud belch escaped me without permission right at that moment, but I didn’t care. Jordan had seen worse when I gave up pretenses years ago. I had dismissed good manners and dating on the same day.

“You are so pleasant to live with,” he pointed out.

“Yeah? And?”

“Well, it might be time for you to consider moving into your own space.”

“Seriously?”

“I mean, take your time, but yeah. You know I’ve been thinking about proposing. Don’t think that you won’t still see Meyer every day. You know you will, but I just happen to think it’s time for us to move on with our lives.”

“You’re joking,” I said, still dumbfounded by the bomb my stupid-ass brother dropped, and not only because I was worried about seeing my niece, Meyer, whenever I wanted.

“No, I’m not. And in the meantime, I told New Guy to come over for dinner.”

“What? Why?”

“He’s coming tonight. Meyer is at a sleepover, so it works out perfectly.”

“I’ll say it again, why?”

“Because he’s a cool guy and new in town. He’s more likely to stick around if he has friends.”

“And we’re going to be those friends?” I asked skeptically.

“Yes. Can you please try to be somewhat presentable? Maybe wear something a little cleaner or you know, wash your hair.”

“My hair is clean, jerk!” Well, it was clean until I took out twenty years of frustration on a punching bag, which was now a complete waste of time considering my brother was kicking me out. All that stress I felt earlier was creeping back up my spine. Distraction, that’s what I needed. I looked down at my old black t-shirt that used to belong to he-whose-name-I-still-can’t-say-without-wanting-to cry. It was a little sweaty and now had cheesy fingerprints on it. It was time to give up on the junk food and maybe take a long shower…so long I used up all the hot water, so that my jerk brother would have to take a cold shower before his dumb friend arrived.

Jordan decided to grill out, and I did my best June Cleaver impersonation by wearing a cute floral dress and baking a pie. I seriously baked a pie. It wasn’t hard. All I had to do was take it out of the box and stick it in the oven. Zoe was witness to the whole thing. I figured what the hell. If Jordan was going to kick me out, he at least needed to see the awesomeness that he’d be missing.

I had just closed the oven door when the doorbell rang. I heard male voices by the door, but Zoe and I stayed put in the kitchen, where we were sharing a bottle of wine. I may have helped make dinner, but greeting New Guy at the door was a one-person job.

Laughter rang through the house, and the sounds of both male voices were so familiar that all my hair stood at attention. My spine automatically straightened, and my stomach clenched, making me reconsider the cheese puffs from earlier. My body was clearly aware of what was to come before my mind had time to catch up. By the time my mind decided to do its job and function, the flight instinct was present in all its glory, but for some reason my body wouldn’t move. Sometimes in stressful situations my brain and body refused to work in tandem.

He was in the room. I could feel him, but I couldn’t turn around to let my eyes confirm what my body felt from the second that laugh rang through the house. Zoe jumped off her stool to meet her boyfriend’s new friend like the good, uninformed girlfriend that she was. Completely unaware of my turmoil, she smiled and greeted him warmly, and I was grateful for her distraction. She was giving me a moment to compose myself. I needed ten more years to actually accomplish the task, but that wasn’t in the cards for me right then.

“Reagan!” Jordan shouted. He was always doing that.

“What?” I snapped, turning quickly but still managing to avoid eye contact with the stranger who wasn’t a stranger at all. No, instead the other man in the fool-me-thrice brigade stood in front of me. Nausea consumed me, but aside from the whole shaking like a leaf thing, I still remained frozen while my mind fought my body. My heart pounded wildly against my ribs. I should be able to stand in the same room with him after all this time, but should was a funny concept.

I should be able to see him and speak to him, but my mind went haywire every time he was near. I should be over what happened in the past. Time should heal all wounds, but it only made me fear this moment more considering I never stopped feeling so strongly for him. I had hoped it was the memory of him that had me feeling so much, but judging from the way my body responded to his presence, I knew it wasn’t. He was the only man in the world who could affect me like this after a ten-year absence, and for that I hated myself a little.

“Did you hear me, Reagan?” Hear you? Can’t you see I’m freaking out over here? “This is Brock Anderson, but I think you already knew that.” Jordan’s grin told me he was well aware who this guy was to me. A flick of my eyes to Brock told me he had made the connection as well. My guess was that the only one who was unaware that Jordan and Brock had just set me up was Zoe, but she was quickly figuring it out while we all stood there letting the tension build.

Brock grinned wickedly as he crossed the kitchen to where I stood. I feared if he came closer, I would shatter, but that didn’t stop him. Nor did it finally set my body in motion. “Nice to see you again, Rea,” he drawled in that gravelly bedroom voice just before he gently pressed his lips to my cheek. Before pulling away, he whispered, “I missed you.”

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