It was my dream home, and I was nearly salivating by the time the car stopped before a five-car garage.

"Miss." The driver pointed back towards the gate. "There are three cameras posted along the perimeter. There are also four more hidden in the trees. Mr. Denton wanted me to tell you about them. The gate is electrical so no one can touch it in any attempt to climb over. It has a three second delay before someone is shocked."

"That's…good to know." And a little frightening if I was trying to get out.

"There's a latch behind the gate on this side. You can lift the black lid and pull the lever. The gate will open from this side if you need to get out."

There went that scary thought. I nodded and took a deep breath. Denton was globally recognized for his celebrity status. I shouldn't have been surprised at the lengths he'd go for privacy and safety. If Mena ever came here, he'd do anything to keep her safe.

"Is Denton here?" I asked when the driver took my bags out of the back.

"He headed to New York a half hour ago. There was an emergency with Miss Mena. His instructions were to show you to your room. He said you would feel comfortable with the home to yourself."

He was right. The driver showed me my room, set in some far wing of the house, and left me alone after that. Not only did I have a plush king size bed but also a tapestry that went over it. A few couches were in the corner that opened to a walk-in closet. The balcony was behind the couches. If my room was this grandiose, I wondered what the rest of the house was like.

I found an indoor pool, a tennis court, and a complete gym including a track. Then I found the kitchen, which could accommodate a restaurant staff. There was a huge rotating rotisserie in a corner. As I found one living room, I sat down on a plush couch and wondered why I hadn't taken advantage of my friendship with Denton sooner. Just then a part of the wall slid away to reveal a theatre screen that was the size of the entire wall. I stood up and found that I'd accidentally hit a button on a remote. The television clicked on, and I found myself staring at Bryce.

He was larger than life on the screen. It felt as if he was standing in front of me, but bigger. I jumped then patted my chest in an effort to calm myself. He's on TV. It's the game. He's not here. An interviewer stuck a microphone in Bryce's face and asked how Guadalupe was.

Any calming thoughts I had went out the window.

He was saying, "…we did the best we could. I think we've learned from our mistakes and will prepare for our next game. Thank you."

The screen changed to a group of announcers around a table. I realized they were discussing how ready the new left forward was for the California Suns and their competition. One announcer said that Bryce would crash and burn. A second said he'd do just fine after being challenged at the start-up. The third said he could always go right back to Spain. And the fourth smiled, nodded, and wished the new locally grown left forward good luck. The screen cut to another shot of Bryce at some event. He wore a tuxedo and had his arm around a beaming Guadalupe, who wore a red dress that barely covered her.

I threw the remote down, but it didn't do anything. That's when I crossed to the large screen and quickly found the on/off button.

Then my phone buzzed. It was a text from him.Are you sure you want to go? I don't want you to go. Can I visit you in NY? I will be there in a few weeks for a game.

I erased the message and didn't text back. I knew it was childish, but I didn't care. Bastard.

Then Corrigan called. I groaned but answered. "Hello?"

Corrigan yelled, "Why are you in New York? Why aren't you here?"

Loud music and laughter in the background made it difficult to hear him. "Are you are a party?"

"I'm at the bar. We're planning the homecoming carnival."

"What are you planning?"

"I don't know. We haven't started yet." He growled in frustration. "That's not why I called you. Why are you going to New York?"

I grinned as I heard his last words slur a bit. "Are you drunk?"

"Maybe. Will you talk to me?"

"I am, about the carnival."

He growled again. "You're running away. Why are you doing that?"

I frowned. "Corrigan, what do you want?"

"It's what you want. That's the issue here. That's always been the issue. You just never choose. No, you choose and then you change your mind. You can't keep doing that."

I tried to ignore my racing heart and sweaty palms. "Is that why you called? You want me to choose?" I stood and looked out the back window. The view might've been breathtaking, but I barely registered it. A moose could've been staring back at me, and I wouldn't have even blinked. "You called me for this? You want to have this talk now over the phone?"

"No. I called because I talked to Grace."

"Why didn't you say so right away?" And why was he bringing up the other stuff?

"Because I'm drunk and you're running away. I don't want you to run away." He sounded sheepish.

"Oh." A ball had formed in my throat. "What'd Grace say?"

"Nothing." He burped and laughed. "You're right. She's really watching what she says. But I think you're wrong that she doesn't trust you. She does. It's just…I don't know what it is. You're right that something's going on with her."

"What exactly did she say?"

"Nothing, like I said. She asked how you were. I told her we weren't talking anymore and then I laid on the charm."

"And?"

"Nothing. She rejected me. She no longer carries a torch for me. I'm going to die alone, Sheldon, unless you…"

"Shut up." I rolled my eyes now. "She didn't even flirt back a little?"

"Nope, but she kept looking over her shoulder the whole time."

"Like someone was watching her?" My heartbeat had calmed, but now it picked up again.

"You mean like she has a stalker? Why would Grace have a stalker? She's so…blah." He burped again.

"Not to some people. And I'm not talking about a stalker. I'm talking about people making sure she doesn't say anything to the wrong people."

"I don't know. Grace has always been the kind to run to the police right away or organize a prayer circle for someone. Being threatened or blackmailed doesn't make sense. Grace stood up to us in high school. Why wouldn't she to anyone else?"