Unraveled Read Online Free PDF Page B

sailed back out the door.
    Jeremy chuckled. “That isn’t the only thing she’s all over.”
    Blake narrowed his eyes at his younger brother. “What are you talking about?”
    “Dude. She would be all over you in a second if you didn’t sit there like an iceberg. What’s your problem, man?”
    Blake grinned. “No problem here.” Jeremy loved to aggravate him. And he was good at it. But not this time. He shook his head. You’re way off on that whole Tisha thing, little brother. He grabbed a thick stack of brochures off the counter and reached for his keys. “I’ve got to deliver these to the ferry terminal, I guess their rack is empty already. I’ll be back in a few.”
    Jeremy dismissed him with a wave. “I’ll hold down the fort.”
    Five minutes later, Blake pulled his truck into the ferry terminal and cut the engine. He had just enough time to drop off these brochures and head over to the warehouse to make sure Tisha had everything she needed for that four-thirty run.
    A new Lexus SUV pulled into the space next to his. Blake’s heartbeat stuttered when he recognized the school superintendent, Alan Maxwell, in the driver’s seat. Although Blake checked the school district’s website faithfully since he moved back, no one had posted an opening for a head basketball coach at the high school. Well, there’s no time like the present. Couldn’t hurt to ask, right?
    He scooped the brochures off the passenger seat and jumped out of the truck. Slamming the door, he mustered his most professional smile and waved to his new boss.
    “Hi, Mr. Maxwell. How’s it going?”
    In his plaid flannel button down and spotless Levi’s, Mr. Maxwell looked like he’d just stepped off the pages of LL Bean. “Afternoon, Blake. How’s business?”
    “Can’t complain. We’ve got more business than we can handle most days.”
    Mr. Maxwell hitched his thumbs in his belt loops and rocked back on his heels. “Good, good. Keeps you out of trouble, I guess.”
    Blake’s stomach clenched. “Trouble, sir?”
    “C’mon, son.” He clapped Blake on the shoulder. “No need to pretend with me. I’m well aware of your history. Just glad to hear you’re keeping your nose clean.”
    Blake chewed on his lower lip, his blood pounding in his ears like a freight train. “I can assure you, sir, those days are behind me.”
    “Of course they are. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to buy—”
    “Wait.” Blake put up a hand to stop him. “I’d really like to be considered for Mr. Hoffman’s position, when and if he decides to retire. I know—”
    “Whoa. Slow down, there. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled you’re teaching history this fall. But coaching?” A thin smile stretched across his weathered features and he shook his head slowly, as if that would make the words more palatable. “You’re gonna have to earn my trust, son.” With one final pat on the shoulder, he turned away.
    Blake watched him go, seething inside. What was that all about?
    Lord, why did you call me back here? You know I want nothing more than to coach again. If you’ve forgotten the mistakes I’ve made, why can’t he?

    Lauren sat up, startled awake by the opening notes of Katy Perry’s “Firework.” Groggy and disoriented, she glanced around the loft. That’s right. Home. Sliding off the window seat, she reached for her bag and dug past her wallet, baggage claim stubs, and an Altoids tin.
    “C’mon, where is it?” The blue glow of her cell phone appeared and she studied the screen. Holden. Her heart stuttered in anticipation. She needed to hear his voice. Surely he’d offer to catch the next plane out.
    She sighed, swiping her finger across the screen. “Hello?”
    “Hey, you.” His voice was husky, confident. She waited for the rush of warmth that usually accompanied that timbre. Huh. Nothing.
    “Hi.” She sat down on the edge of the bed.
    “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. Things are kind of crazy here.”
    She hesitated.