“What? She can’t agree to marry you without hearing about the time you peed the bed and blamed it on the dog.”
Lincoln hangs his head and mutters under his breath. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me away, shouting over his shoulder, “Thanks a lot, man. Enjoy the party.”
Abby, Erica, and Cassidy sit off to one side with Smith and Keith. After I’ve met all of Lincoln’s family, I sneak away to join them.
“Congratulations.” Abby stands and squeezes me hard.
The other girls do the same, and I take a seat next to Keith.
“Congrats,” he says. “Senior year won’t be the same without you.”
“I am an awesome lab partner.” I bump his shoulder with mine. “I got you a present to make up for all the stress I’ve caused you over the last three years.”
He raises a brow in question.
“Reeves Sports all access, unlimited membership for life.”
“No way?”
“Yes way. Thanks for always having my back.”
“I, uh, have something for you, too.” Keith stands and produces a folded newspaper clipping from his front pocket. He holds it out to me. “I thought you might want to frame it.”
As I unfold the paper, Erica moves so she can see and busts out laughing.
“What is it?” Abby asks.
I hand it to her. “It’s the correction the paper issued from that interview I did at the qualifier citing Lincoln Reeves as my coach instead of Potter.” I smile at Keith. “Thank you. I knew you had a little rebellious streak in you.”
It’s hours before Lincoln and I get back to the apartment, and when we do, I drop onto the couch exhausted and happy. So freaking happy. I hold my left hand up, admiring the big rock on my finger. It’s beautiful and a little heavy.
“Do you like it?” he asks, taking a seat next to me. “I’ve never seen you wear jewelry, so I had no idea what to pick.”
“I love it.”
“I’m glad. That ring belonged to Gram.”
“It was your grandmother’s?” I ask. “It looks brand new.”
“Pop gave it to her for their fortieth anniversary. She wore it for a month or two and then went back to her original set. Sentimentality won out over the size of the rock, I guess. Anyway, when I asked her for help finding a ring, she offered me that. I thought you’d like having something that was hers.”
“I do.” I hold it against my chest. “It’s perfect.” Moving so I can face him, I ask, “You’re sure about this? Really? I’m not sure you know what you got yourself into. I’m messy, and I get hangry. I like to eat in bed, and I—”
He presses his lips to mine mid-sentence, kissing me hard and making me forget what I was going on about. When he pulls back, it’s to say, “Stop trying to scare me off. I know exactly who you are.”
“You do?”
“Mm-hmm. You’re the girl who’s stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere.” He stands and tugs me to my feet before leading me to the bedroom. “Well, except to bed so I can sex up my new fiancée.”
Calloused fingers gently lift my shirt over my head and push my skirt and panties down to the floor. I step out of them and unhook my bra before he can get to it, tossing it to the ground.
Instead of throwing me onto the bed like it looks like he wants to do, he draws my naked body against him. “I love you so damn much.”
“I love you too.” We stand together, leaning on one another and soaking up all the feelings and things words can’t say. “What’s next, Coach?”
I feel the laughter from his chest, and his mouth descends close to mine. “Sex. Lots and lots of reps. I’ll let you know when to stop.”
THE END
Read on for a sample of The Assist or read it free with Kindle Unlimited!
Coming Soon
More jocks are coming in 2020! Sign up for my newsletter to be notified of release dates and other book news: www.subscribepage.com/rebeccajenshaknewsletter
Join my Facebook Reader Group for behind the scenes, exclusive excerpts, and more!
Playlist
“WHATS POPPIN” by Jack Harlow
“Maniac” by Conan Gray
“Like It Is” by Kygo, Zara Larsson, Tyga
“Life Is Good” by Future feat. Drake
“Weekend” by Priory
“Closer” by The Chainsmokers feat. Halsey
“Never Seen The Rain” by Tones And I
“Good News” by Mac Miller
“OTW” by Khalid, 6LACK, Ty Dolla $ign
“The Box” by Roddy Ricch
“Toosie Slide” by Drake
“Don’t Start Now” by Dua Lipa
“Adore You” by Harry Styles
“That Way” by Lil Uzi Vert
“SUGAR” by BROCKHAMPTON
“Eleven” by Khalid
“Ride It” by Regard
“Blueberry Faygo” by Lil Mosey
“LOYAL” by PARTYNEXTDOOR feat. Drake
“Forever” by Justin Bieber feat. Post Malone & Clever
“In Your Eyes” by Robin Schulz feat. Alida
“Break My Heart” by Dua Lipa
“Know Your Worth” by Khalid, Disclosure
“Before You Go” by Lewis Capaldi
“Stupid Love” by Lady Gaga
“Exchange” by Bryson Tiller
“Alone, Pt. II” by Alan Walker & Ava Max
“Don’t Give Up On Me” by Andy Grammer
“Make Me Proud” by Drake feat. Nicki Minaj
“Life Is Better With You” by Michael Franti
“If The World Was Ending” by JP Saxe feat. Julia Michaels
Acknowledgments
Another book that absolutely could not have been written without so many other people’s help.
To my husband, I never would or could have written a golf book without you. This one is definitely for you <3
Ann, writing would be lonely without you. Thanks for pushing me along the way.
Becca, I’m never letting you leave me. *Darcy hand flex*
All my family and friends who support and love me even when I’m holed away in my office for weeks at a time—I love you so much. Who has the tequila?
And special thanks to Michelle B. and Kathy P. for their help in researching this book.
Also by Rebecca Jenshak
Smart Jocks
The Assist
The Fadeaway
The Tip-Off
The Fake
Sweetbriar Lake
Sweat
Stand-Alones
If Not for Love
Electric Blue Love
About the Author
Rebecca Jenshak is a self-proclaimed margarita addict, college basketball fanatic, and Hallmark channel devotee. A Midwest native transplanted to the desert, she likes being outdoors (drinking on patios) and singing (in the shower) when she isn't writing books about hot guys and the girls who love them.
Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from Rebecca – sign up to receive her newsletter www.subscribepage.com/rebeccajenshaknewsletter
Sneak Peek of The Assist
Prologue
Blair
Three Years Ago
“Who run the world?” Gabby and I scream the lyrics at the top of our lungs. Top down on her cherry-red convertible, music blaring, hair blowing across our faces, we pull out of the high school parking lot with the first day of classes behind us.
“One more year, Blair. One more freaking year, and we’re out of this place,” she says when Beyoncé stops singing.
“You don’t think you’ll miss it? Even a little bit?”
She shoots me a look that questions my sanity. “No. We’re going to Valley U, we’re going to study hard, party our asses off, and then, when we graduate, we’re going to start some fabulous female only business and end up on the cover of Forbes or Vanity Fair. You and I are meant for more than Suck Hill.”
Her enthusiasm is contagious. I want all those things, truly,
but it’s Gabby who is counting down the days until we can leave our small town of Succulent Hill, which Gabs lovingly renamed Suck Hill. I’ve always liked the community and friendliness of living in our hometown. Not Gabby. She’s been dreaming of moving to Valley and attending the university there since we were in middle school.
Bringing the car to a halt at the four-way stop just outside of our neighborhood, she turns the radio down. There aren’t any other cars as far as the eye can see, but we continue to idle in place. I meet her serious gaze. “What’s wrong? Are we out of gas again or something?”
“Promise me we’re getting out of this town.”
I laugh off her words. “I promise.”
She grabs my wrist and pulls on the friendship bracelet I made in eighth grade. The ratty thing made of purple thread from my mother’s sewing kit still hangs on my arm. A matching one dons her wrist. It’s become a symbol of our relationship and the promises we’ve made. “I mean it, Blair. You and I are getting out of this place. We’re going to make something of ourselves. Run companies, have someone fetch us coffee, live in fabulous downtown apartments, and have brunch dates after Pilates on the weekends.”
“I know. We’ve only been talking about it forever.”
I don’t understand the sudden urgency of her words. We should be enjoying our last year and planning what we’ll wear to prom or what we’ll put in the senior time capsule. College is a year away and there’s so much to do before then.
“Swear it. Swear you’re going to do it with me.”
Gabby’s perfectly styled blonde hair blows in the breeze like a commercial for Vidal Sassoon. It’s easy for people to laugh off her ambitions as the rambling of a pretty girl whose been handed everything her entire life. She is beautiful, and she has been handed her share of privilege, but only I know how strong her desire to rule the world is. I don’t believe in my own dreams nearly as much as I believe in hers.
I nudge her with my elbow. “I swear, Gabs.”
My faith in myself is shaky, but I believe in Gabby, and with her by my side, I know we’re capable of anything.
Dark clouds off in the distance warn of a monsoon storm rolling in just as Gabby parks in front of her house and closes the convertible top. “Sure you don’t want to come with me tonight? Rachel’s back to school pool party is going to be epic.”
“Can’t. We’re going out to dinner to celebrate my dad’s birthday.”
Outside of the car, I breathe in the smell of rain in the distance. The wind has already picked up, and I’m looking forward to the heavy gusts and downpour that won’t be far behind. When Gabby and I were little we’d talk on the phone through storms, anxiously waiting for the puddles that would be left behind so we could splash and play before the dry desert ground soaked up all the water. I shuffle toward my house, just three houses down from Gabby’s. We’ve been neighbors our whole life, best friends too.
“You could sneak out after.” Her sea-blue eyes light up with mischief.
“No thanks. I’m not risking getting grounded two weeks before the pep rally.”
She kisses the air. “Fine, loser. I’ll text you later.”
“Later, Gabs.”
I send her a wave over my shoulder and make my way home. Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting at my desk, watching the rain trickle down the window of my second story bedroom, when I see Gabby’s car pull away from the curb. With a sigh, I pull out my history textbook and turn to the assigned reading.
If my best friend could see me now, she’d roll her eyes and call me an overachiever. I’m probably the only person sitting at home tonight instead of attending Rachel’s party. Tomorrow everyone is going to be talking about it, and all I’ll have to contribute to the conversation is the formation of the Provincial Congresses during the American Revolution.
I struggle to focus on the words as my brain tortures me with daydreams of how much fun everyone is having. Still, an hour passes and I’m almost done with the first chapter when my mom knocks on my door.
“Blair, honey.”
I stand and stretch. “Come in.”
I grab my purse, prepared to celebrate my dad’s birthday. My brother and his new wife are meeting us. It should be fun. Although, it doesn’t really compare to a pool party with all the coolest kids at SH High.
When I open the door, mother’s face is not of happiness or celebration. My stomach drops, and my body tenses in preparation of receiving bad news.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Honey, it’s Gabby.”
People talk around me. My brain catches and fixates on single words. Hydroplaned. Unconscious. Critical. Brain Trauma.
I don’t care about any of it. I just want to see her. I want to march back there and see Gabby pop up out of bed and tell me it was all a big joke to get me out of the house for the night.
But it’s two long days and nights of sleeping in the waiting room before they let me into her room in the intensive care unit. I’ve been warned about the trauma of the accident, internal and external, but when I see her lying in bed bruised and covered in bandages, I run to her side and grab her hand. It’s only relief and happiness that brings the tears to my eyes as she tries to smile around the cuts on her face.
“Gabs.”
She opens her mouth and then closes it, frowning. “I…”
“What is it?”
A single tear slides down her face. “I can’t remember your name.” More tears fall, and each one breaks my heart a little more. “I know you’re important. I can feel it in here.” She slowly lifts a casted arm to her chest and taps. “But I can’t remember who you are.”
A nurse in blue scrubs enters the room. “Gabriella, I need to take you downstairs for a scan.”
The use of Gabby’s full name opens the floodgates, and every emotion I’ve felt in the past forty-eight hours assaults me at once.
“I’ll come back, Gabs.” I squeeze her fingers lightly and then flee like a coward out of the room.
Tears blurring my vision, I stumble into the small sanctuary of the hospital and let the sobs wrack my body. I curse God and then apologize and send up a quick prayer. I’m not sure where I stand on God, but this doesn’t feel like the right time to snub divine intercession.
A small head pops up in the front row, and I halt two rows back, leaving a respectable distance between us. A girl, no more than ten, turns and offers me a small smile. I wipe my face and nose and give her a half-hearted wave before settling into the pew. The wood creaks beneath me, and I gaze forward to the huge cross nailed to a cement block wall.
Little feet skip down the side of the room and a mass of blonde ringlets bounces beside me. “Hi, I’m Sunny.”
Of course she is. She exudes light and cheer, which is saying something in this shitty excuse for a house of worship.
“Hi, Sunny. I’m Blair.”
“I like your bracelets.” Her eyes track my arm as she studies the colorful adornments with wide-eyed wonder.
“Thank you. They’re friendship bracelets.” My voice breaks and I swipe at new tears.
“It’s okay to cry,” she says with reassurance. “Momma says we gotta cry out all the sadness to make room for hope to grow. Positive thinking attracts miracles.”
The door to the chapel opens and a woman looks in, finds Sunny and motions for her. “That’s my mom. Gotta go.” Sunny doesn’t wait for my goodbye, she runs into the arms of her mom. I watch as the frail woman hangs her head low and clings to the bundle of sunshine.
It’s too much, so I turn forward, giving them privacy and letting Sunny’s words take root. Positive thinking attracts miracles, huh? I close my eyes and say another prayer because, devoted believer or not, I’m willing to call in favors just in case, and then I push away all negative outcomes and only allow myself to imagine the future with Gabby by my side.
Blair
Present Day
“Well, that pretty much seals my fate.” Vanessa flashes her test, showing off the r
ed F at the top of the paper. “Wanna come with me to get a drop slip?”
“No. Don’t leave me alone in here, V. It’s only the first test. We can do this.” My attempt at a pep talk fails miserably. Probably because I’m simultaneously suppressing a groan at my own hostile red letter. Circled and underlined for emphasis. As if I needed more than the large D staring up at me as an indication I hadn’t done well on our first statistics test.
We wait for our classmates to filter out of the large auditorium, and judging by the grim expressions and mutterings about the evil professor, we aren’t the only ones who did poorly. A small comfort, I suppose.
So much for my perfect GPA, and so much for winning over Professor O’Sean. He’s the program coordinator for the accelerated MBA track that I’m applying to next year. It’s just a hunch, but I don’t think failing his class will help me get in. College hasn’t been exactly what I envisioned when Gabby and I planned our futures all those years ago. Actually, that’s too bland a statement. It hasn’t been all bad, but so far, this semester royally sucks. I feel guilty for even thinking those words. It’ll all work out. I just need to buckle down and study harder. Think positive.
Vanessa nudges me while we trudge up the stairs. She leans in to whisper, “My last chance to ogle the man candy.”
I follow her slight head nod to the back row, which is occupied by three members of the university’s basketball team. I’d like to think I would have noticed the trio, built like the nationally ranked athletes they are, even if Vanessa hadn’t pointed them out each and every class. But the last month has been a haze of homework and studying. I'm not sure I would have noticed them even if they'd sat beside me. If it doesn't involve classes, caffeine, or sleep, I don't have time for it.
Sweet Spot Page 23
