From the Start Read Online Free PDF Page B

salvaging your career, you’ve got to clean up your act. Now.”
    “What career? I’m done. Washed up.” He could still taste the doctor’s sour words: “If you keep playing, you’ll do the kind of permanent damage we can’t fix.”
    Colton Greene. Unfixable.
    Sounded about right somehow.
    “You still have your foundation.”
    With Lilah at the helm? How was he supposed to handle that?
    “And you’d make a great sports-show host, Colt. I’ve been saying that’s your obvious plan B ever since the injury. You’ve got the looks and the talent. But nobody’s going to take you seriously if you can’t pull yourself together.”
    Colton ran one hand along the wooden railing, pulled back with a jerk when he felt a splinter poke his palm.
    “So that’s my question: Can you pull yourself together? Yes or no?”
    “Yes.”
    “That wasn’t even close to convincing.”
    Colton closed his eyes and tipped his head, the heat of the sun, his sore jaw, Ian’s pushing . . . all of it demanding a deep breath and forced calm. He’s only trying to help. “Yes, Ian. What do you want me to do?”
    “Lay low for a while. Stay out of the spotlight.”
    The smell of the eggs Logan must be frying drifted outside, along with the memory of his friend’s offer. “Heading to Iowa . . . come along. Clear your head.” There were probably worse places to lay low than Iowa.
    Ian’s voice cut in. “One more thing. You’ve had a book deal on the table for over a year. It’s time to get serious. Publisher’s getting antsy. You’ve fired two ghostwriters.”
    Colton stiffened, apprehension beating through him. “Didn’t fire them. Just didn’t work out.”
    It had sounded like such a good idea at first, the book. After all, he had the life story people liked to read. Rowdy D1 quarterback with the painful past and bad-boy image, drafted right out of college, always in trouble during the off-season. Then just like that, during his second season in the NFL, he turns his life around after his friend coaxes him to church on Christmas Eve.
    The friend . . . Logan.
    But he hadn’t realized when he’d signed that book contract what it’d mean, working with a writer. Hadn’t known they’d dig so deep. Poke and prod at shadows he’d rather not illuminate.
    “One bestseller of a sports memoir could rewrite your reputation and jump-start your future, Colton. You need this.”
    Ian paused, his forceful stretch of silence driving his point home. “I emailed you details on a couple other writers. We have to nail this thing—I’m talking book drafted in a month or two. They’ve already pushed the release date back twice. They’re not going to do it again. Choose a writer. I want a name by Monday. Otherwise I’ll pick for you.”
    Colton closed his eyes against the sunlight, clawing humidity slithering over his skin. “Fine.” He’d review the information. Probably on the plane trip to Iowa. Yes, sometime between stepping outside and Ian’s ultimatum, he’d made the decision—he’d go with Logan.
    He had to. Because something told him if he didn’t, he’d find himself in another bar tonight. And on the couch again tomorrow. Same headache, same blurred thoughts.
    That Christmas Eve memory further away than ever.
    And the gnawing question impossible to ignore—who was Colton Greene anymore without football?

    The shimmer of a full moon shone like a beacon’s gaze over the rolling landscape, heavy Iowa wind rustling through cornfields crowded with lanky stalks that bent and rose in waves. Kate turned her Focus onto the gravel lane that led to Dad’s acreage, nighttime painting a blueish tint over the rustic wood exterior of the house just now coming into view.
    Home.
    She hadn’t planned to make the drive today. When she’d talked to Dad and Raegan on the phone this morning during her breaks at the Willis, they’d both insisted she hold off. Especially since she’d already been planning to come home for the