Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

brOCK

Gideon Thornridge’s voice turns hearty and amused when I move to give him my copy of book sixteen to sign. “I’ve heard you caused a little bit of a ruckus today, Mr. Hunter.”

Urban legend says this man stopped signing books because someone mistook him for J.R.R. Tolkein, so I grimace rather than laugh. It’s probably that—a legend, given how he’s acted with Presley and what he revealed to her. That revelation also makes me wonder why Alexis didn’t just brush off my offerings to get Presley this ticket. They clearly already have all the connections she needs to get movies made.

“Sorry about that, sir.”

He waves me off. “It was the delight of my day when Alexis called to report to me that Brock Hunter was a fan of TOK.”

He says my name like he knows it. “You’re a football fan?” I can’t help asking. There’s a middle-school boy in me still whose mind would be blown to discover that the author of TOK liked football.

“A casual fan,” he says. “I watch an Empire game here and there. Brie Delaney had me up in her suite last year, and that was very enjoyable, to be honest.”

I’m guessing Ms. Delaney, the owner of the Empire, is in on the secret of Gideon’s pen name. “If you ever want to watch a Rays game from a suite, let me know.” I look up at Alexis, who made all of this happen for us today. “Same to you.”

“I might hold you to that,” she says.

“Are you ready for this?” Gideon asks the same thing he asked Presley as he opens Rebirth of Darkness to sign it.

“I’ve known for years what happens,” I say with a wink at Presley, which draws a full chuckle from Gideon. She elbows me, shaking her head. She won’t say it in front of Gideon, but if Lyra is the Obsidian Queen, she might burn every copy of the TOK series she owns. Except for the one her aunt gave her, maybe.

Gideon asks me how I found TOK, and we chat for a minute about Tim and his influence on my life before Alexis gives me a look that says I’ve gotten away with enough today.

“Thank you again for this opportunity,” I say as a way of goodbye. I wave at Alexis too.

“One moment, Brock,” Gideon says before I shift away. He holds out a notebook, and I notice the signature of a few A-list names in Hollywood on the page he’s on before he turns to a new one. “May I have your autograph.”

I can’t help beaming at him. Yes, fourteen-year-old Brock’s mind would be thoroughly blown at this moment. “Absolutely.”

Presley and I don’t speak until we’re outside the little bookstore. The rest of the world seems like a surprise after that.

“Wow,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t believe that happened. He’s—” She cuts herself off before she says the name.

“He asked for my autograph.” A disbelieving laugh escapes me.

“He’s so cool.” Presley hugs her bag to her chest.

“The coolest.” The SUV I rented for us today idles at the curb, waiting for us to get in. I’d texted our driver when we got to the front of the line so we wouldn’t have to wait too long. We need to grab dinner and get on the plane back to LA. I have to go to practice in the morning.

But I’m not quite ready to leave yet. Today has been magical, and being here with Presley is a huge part of that. I think about how compelled I was to make sure she got every single thing she deserved today and the warmth that climbed up my arm when I held her hand. The feeling that I would have traded myself back to the Devils if it meant that Presley could get the answers she wanted about her aunt. What does it mean that I didn’t care if we got special treatment today just because I’m a rich football player who threw around my weight to get Presley what she wanted? I have a suspicion, but I push it away for now. Today has been perfect, and I don’t want to ruin it.

“Selfie?” Presley asks.

“Obviously.”

She hands me her phone, and we laugh as we try to adjust in the picture to get Presley’s head in it along with the bookstore behind us.

“Do we need to get you a stool to stand on?” I ask.

“Maybe you should crouch, you giant.”

So I do that, which makes her laugh harder, and that’s when I snap the picture.

It’s perfect.

We head back to Teterboro and find a little grill restaurant for dinner. We linger too long, reliving the best moments from the day. Presley’s cheeks turn rosy when she talks about me carrying her to safety from my rabid fans. We both know we should hurry. We have to work in the morning, but I get the feeling Presley’s holding on to today like I am, somehow knowing the magic is going to end.

Finally we head over to the airport, where our plane is waiting for us. It’s nice flying a private jet, and worth every penny. Presley and I would have had to rush through everything without it. Despite the pressure I live with because of football, I’m grateful it provided us with this.

To be honest, everything in my life has felt easier to deal with since I met Presley, and that’s not lost on me .

We settle onto the plane while it gets ready to leave, and I pull out my copy of the new TOK book. “Ready to start?” I ask.

“I’ve been waiting all day, Book Tsar.” She reaches inside her bag.

I hold up a hand, stopping her. “Come over here and read to me. You’re first.” I took a seat on the love seat that’s situated on one side of the plane since it accommodates my large stature a lot better. I point to the seat next to me. “So I can make sure you’re reading it right and not skipping things you don’t like.”

Presley doesn’t answer for a long moment, just studies me, eyes boring into mine. “Lyra isn’t the Obsidian Queen,” she finally says and steps across the aisle to plop down next to me. I take up a lot of room on any piece of furniture I sit on, but especially this one. It can’t be true love-seat size since the space I’ve left for her puts her right next to me, her leg touching mine as she sits down.

I hand her the book, again pushing aside the warmth that creeps over my leg from where she’s touching me. I’ll think about that tomorrow. I stretch my arm across the top of the love seat. She turns to glance at it but then stares at the book.

“Not sure I’m ready for this,” she says quietly as she stares down at it.

Oh, I know the feeling.

“Even when we finish this book, TOK doesn’t have to end. We can read it together a dozen more times.” I let my arm slip off the love seat and around her shoulders, pulling her in for a side hug.

“A dozen,” she says, her soft voice scoffing. “Slow poke.” She leans into my side and opens the book. I relax beside her.

In the early hours of the next morning, after I’ve walked Presley up to her apartment and hugged her goodnight, I text Lincoln as I make my way back down to the SUV.

Brock: I think I messed up.