Straddling the Line(2)
Her dad.
This wasn’t the right career for her. She’d made a mistake accepting this job. She wasn’t cut out for the rigors of sports news—the travel, the insane schedule, the arrogant athletes.
What was she thinking? Her father hadn’t even been gone a year yet.
She couldn’t do it.
Be brave, Haven. You can do anything, be anything you want to be. Just be happy.
Tears pricked her eyes and she swiped them away as every conversation they’d had those last few weeks replayed in a reel over and over in her head.
Be happy.
She didn’t know how to be happy without hearing her father’s laugh, seeing his smiling face, being able to pick up the phone and talk to him every day.
Who was she going to go to when she needed advice?
She loved her mother, and in the ways of relationships and men and things like that, she had always gone to her mom.
But her dad—he’d been her buddy. She’d learned about sports from her father, had sat next to him and watched football, baseball, hockey, and every sport imaginable. He’d taught her balls and strikes in baseball and the difference between a post pattern and a shovel pass in football. They’d driven up to St. Louis together and taken in all the professional sports. She’d never been more content than to sit next to her dad and watch games with him.
She’d learned to love sports because of her dad.
She’d gone after this job because of him.
And now she was going to be fired because she hadn’t had the energy after his death to do this job she’d wanted for years. For that, she only had herself to blame.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said, then pushed the call button on her phone. It rang. She was hoping for voice mail.
“Haven. I’ve been waiting for you to call.”
She cringed as the loud and very no-nonsense voice of her boss, Chandler Adams, came on the line.
“Hi, Chandler. Sorry. I got tied up.”
“Well, untie yourself. I have a job for you.”
“A . . . job?” He wasn’t firing her?
“Yeah. You know Trevor Shay, right?”
“Trevor . . . yes, I know him.”
“Great. We’re going to do his bio. A whole feature on the life of Trevor Shay. Personal and professional. We’ve been after him for years to do this, and he kept putting us off, until now. He’s finally agreed to let us do the feature, and he’s asked for you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah. Says you two go way back to college.”
“Uh . . . yes. I knew him in college.”
“Then it’s a damn good thing we hired you, Haven. Pack a bag. You’ll meet him at his place in St. Louis to get everything set up. Narrative and background first, and then we’ll get camera work involved later.”
Was she in some alternate universe? She hadn’t been fired. In fact, she’d just been assigned to interview one of the biggest stars in the sports world right now.
“Okay. Sure. Thanks, Chandler.”
“No, problem. I’ll e-mail you the specs on what we’re looking for from you on this, Haven. This assignment’s going to take a while, so clear your calendar.”
“Consider it done.”
When she hung up, she sat back and stared out the window of her very tiny apartment, stunned that she hadn’t been kicked out the door. She’d been mentally prepared, and as she stared at the boxes in her apartment, already half packed, she realized she’d been set in her mind that she was going to head back to Oklahoma to be near her mother, her roots.
Where memories of her dad were.
Now she had to change her focus.
Why had she agreed to do this interview? This job wasn’t what she wanted to do anymore.
Was it?
She sat on the bed.
Follow your dreams, Haven.
She still heard her dad’s voice so clearly in her head. Maybe he was trying to tell her something. She didn’t know if this was her dream anymore, but she’d agreed to take this job.
With Trevor Shay, of all people. She hadn’t seen Trevor since her dad’s funeral. She wondered how he’d react knowing it was her doing this assignment.
He’d probably ignore her, just like he had in college.
No, wait. He’d specifically asked for her. He’d agreed to the interviews, so this time, she wouldn’t allow him to pretend she didn’t exist.
She got up and went to her closet to grab her suitcase.
Her and Trevor Shay. God, she’d had such a crush on him in college, back when she was tutoring him. All those nights they spent shoulder to shoulder, when she’d done her best to try to persuade him to focus on his books, when all she’d really wanted was for him to notice her as a woman.
He’d been more interested in trying to finagle a way to get her to do his homework.