While nothing has been confirmed, we as a club take this very seriously.
A thorough investigation will be conducted, and as a result, Avery Jones will be stood down from the team effective immediately.
The NBA does not tolerate violence against women.
Chapter forty-five
Olive
Myfeetache,evenin sneakers.
The sun has been blaring down on my skin all afternoon. My step count’s probably well over twenty thousand, and my body feels like it’s about to be torn limb from limb.
"Surely you guys have seen enough," I say with a groan while my entire family pose for photos in front of every iconic New York City building or landscape that we’ve passed.
If we were playing ‘spot the tourist,’ they would lose immediately.
We sat front row at Avery's game against the LA Lions, but it wasn’t enough. My family wanted more. So when Avery and I had to fly back to New York for training and his next game, they decided to "hitch a ride," as Lizzie put it, and we all piled onto his jet. But, they insisted on staying in a hotel. Not with Avery in his five bedroom penthouse, even though he offered.
As Cassandra liked to remind me, Harley and his business partner, Robbie, had just bought a hotel right near Times Square, so they all had a place to stay.
"Just one more, and we’ll be done. I promise," Lizzie says, pulling her phone out ushering our entire group to line up in front of the Empire State Building. "Excuse me," she says to a couple passing by. "Could you please take our photo?" They agree and Lizzie rushes back over to our group.
Cole stayed in California to start shooting his new movie, while Jenna remains well and truly part of Team Herring.
"Three, two, one, smile!" the woman shouts, while the man beside her practically has to scoop his jaw off the floor when he spots my brother-in-law.
After the photo, Harley signs the guy’s phone case, and we head back to their hotel, Lizzie’s arm locked in mine.
"Have you told him yet?" she asks, turning to face me with a gentle smile. I don’t bother asking who she means.
"No," I say, shaking my head. "I just haven’t found the right time. I swear I’m not putting it off, I just want it to be…"
"I know," she cuts in.
I’m grateful she knows me well enough to know I would’ve struggled to admit it to her. Confessing to my mom was already hard enough.
"If Avery’s the man I think he is, he won’t care how long it takes. Just make sure you tell him before it’s too late, okay?" She nudges me with her shoulder, and I nod with a low chuckle. "Are we allowed to come to his game tonight?" she asks, sidestepping the rush of bodies trying to collide with hers.
"Uh, if you want to? I can message Orlando and see if we can get extra tickets. You don’t care about seeing Ryder?" I tease her, waiting for the light to turn green so we can cross.
"That man may have given me the hottest sex of my life, but he isnotmy future husband. I’ve already forgotten about him and moved on."
Of course, she has.
We weave through the crowd, and my phone vibrates in my pocket, but I don’t reach for it. I’m enjoying this too much to lose the moment to a screen.
By the time we make it back to their hotel, Cassandra has put Willow down for a much-needed nap, and my phone buzzes again.
"Sorry," I say, fishing it from my pocket. "I think this is important."
Lizzie’s phone chimes before I can answer Orlando’s eighth missed call or read the dozens of texts. She pulls it from her bag, her face turning ghost-white as she reads whatever’s on the screen.
"Olive," she croaks, her lip trembling, a single tear falling from her left eye. "Is it true?"
I think she meant for it to be a whisper, but everyone hears her.
I feel their eyes on me. Mom, Dad, Cassandra, Harley, Lizzie, and Jenna all look up from their phones—each of them wearing a different expression.
