Read Online His One and Only by Theodora Taylor - Free Book Online Page B

understood something about keeping up appearances, even when your life was falling apart.
    To Mac, she said, “If you don’t mind, sir, can you just please do that for me? No questions asked?”
    Mac frowned but he must have given Beau the phone, because when she came up the stairs with his tray that night, she heard him having a conversation with somebody on speakerphone from the other side of the closed door.
    “What do you mean I might be out next season?” he was asking.
    A man with a nasally Northern accent answered, “The back up quarterback’s doing a better job than expected. And let’s face it, Beau, you’re getting a little long-in-the-tooth for the game anyway. A lot of QBs your age are thinking about retiring right about now.”
    “We made the playoffs last year,” Beau said. “They didn’t seem to have a problem with my age when we came closer than we ever have before to the big game.”
    “Yeah, but that was before you got hurt, and they’ve got the team doc telling them you most likely won’t ever be able to see again. He says the neurosurgeon he consulted with—”
    “Carol found a neurosurgeon here at the UAB’s Callahan Eye Hospital who studies this kind of vision loss for a living. He told her he’s fixed hundreds of cases like mine, and he wants to meet with me next Friday,” Beau said. “So fuck what that other guy said.”
    “No offense to your assistant, but the team consulted with one of the top neurosurgeons in the field—”
    “Whatever, tell the coaches not to go offering that snot-nosed kid my spot, because I’m keeping in shape, and I’m going to be back on the field by this summer for practice. And also tell them next year we’re going all the way to the Bowl.”
    On the other end of the line, the Northerner said, “I don’t know how long I can get them to hold off on making a decision.”
    “You’re my agent,” Beau said with obvious scorn in his voice. “Do your job and make it happen.”
    “Okay, I’ll do my best.”
    “No, I want you do better than your best, or I’ll be replacing you like I’m replacing that crap neurosurgeon the team’s got in their pocket.”
    Josie guessed he must have hung up after that because the bedroom went completely silent.
    She tentatively knocked on the door.
    No answer, even though she knew he was obviously in there. She switched the tray to her other hand and used her free one to open the door.
    “Hi, it’s me,” she said as she came through, feeling like the worst kind of person because she hadn’t waited for an invitation. But she was supposed to be at Ruth’s House in an hour, and she didn’t have time to lollygag.
    Beau was sitting in the window seat, his phone gripped tightly in his hand. “How long were you at that door eavesdropping?” he asked.
    “I made three-bean chili with sour cream and some Ezekiel bread on the side,” she said, ignoring his question and trying to keep her voice as cheery as possible. She set the silver tray on top of the small table she had brought in from another room earlier so he wouldn’t have to fumble around trying to eat on the bed.
    His head was turned toward her voice, and she could see his body was just about vibrating with anger. She wondered if it was because of the call or because, as he rightly suspected, she’d overheard it.
    “I see you got your phone out,” she said, trying for a subject change. “When I come back to collect your dishes, we can program my number into it. That way if anything comes up tonight you can text me.” She realized too late that he’d have a hard time texting her. “Or call me. You can call me if anything comes up.”
    Finally he spoke. “Why would I need to call you on the phone when I have the intercom?”
    “Well, it’s Friday, and I have the night off, so if you need something, you’re going to have to call me about it.”
    And though his beard and sunglasses did a lot to obscure his face, she could see his expression grow