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didn’t know he was capable of crossing.”
    “I did.” The sick feeling in his stomach spread throughout his body.
    “For the sake of argument, let’s say Potts did hire this guy to bust you up. What can you do about it now? You have no solid proof. It’s your word against his. If you go around making unsubstantiated accusations he’ll sue you for slander. You know he will.”
    “I might not be able to prove it in a court of law, but I can write a tell-all book.”
    “Oh great. Then it will be libel.”
    “Don’t care.” Rowdy stalked for the door. “Let him sue. The information will be out there in the public. And who knows? It might encourage other players to come forward, and Potts’s house of cards will tumble. This time, he screwed with the wrong player.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “To call the detective who handled my attack, and if he blows me off for lack of solid evidence, then I’m going to call Heath and agree to write that autobiography.”
    “Are you sure that’s a smart move?”
    Rowdy stopped, but didn’t turn around. He knotted his fists at his side. His past mistakes were a mountain, but he had to climb it. Had to make things right. The chickens had finally come home to roost and he was the only one who could pluck them.
    “I gotta try, War.”
    Warwick came after him, his footsteps echoing in the gym. “You do this, and the truth comes rolling out, your career is well and truly over. Might as well surrender any last hope of a comeback.”
    Rowdy gulped. He could back off. Let Potts get away with what he’d done. Or he could fight and let the chips fall. “I didn’t ask you to weigh in.”
    Warwick touched his elbow.
    Rowdy pivoted, and met his buddy’s eyes. The look Warwick gave him was exasperated, confused, and defeated all at once. Seeing his oldest friend’s face fall was like watching an icy glacier calve, impressive but sad.
    “Why are you picking a fight with a guy who has no qualms about hiring someone to do you bodily harm?” Warwick lowered his voice. “And if you write that book, you’ll have to talk about it. ”
    Rowdy softened his jaw, and his tone, but kept his gaze flinty. “I know.”
    Warwick let out a low, broken whistle. “It’s a big step. Give yourself a few days to think it over.”
    “No.”
    “Haven’t you heard the best revenge is a life well lived?” Warwick had never begged for a thing in his life, but he was almost pleading now. “Make that comeback. Show Potts up that way. It’s more your style.”
    “Or I could just sit on my ass, drinking beer, and throwing parties until I’m a pathetic, washed-up has-been. Does that sound good to you?”
    “No.”
    Another beat of a second passed between them, their eyes still locked. Warwick was worried for him. Hell, he was worried for himself.
    Rowdy ate the bitter taste of his own fear, swallowed it back, felt it sink to his stomach, and spin there. “I have to do this.”
    “Why?”
    “Because if I let Potts get away with this, we both know it’s gonna end up destroying me.”
    For a week the hope chest sat unopened behind Breeanne’s desk at Bound to Please, the bookstore housed on the second floor of the converted Victorian of her family’s antique store.
    Timeless Treasures was tucked at the end of Apple Street, two blocks south of Main. Back in the early 1900s Apple Street was where the crème de la crème of Stardust built their homes. But times had changed, so had the economy and zoning, and now the majority of the stately old Victorians were businesses. To the left of the antique store was Twice Around, a vintage clothing boutique. On the right was a dental office. The houses across the street had been turned into law offices, a sandwich shop, and a hair salon. The historical feel was just one of the reasons Breeanne loved living here. Because of the lake, tourism produced a quarter of the town’s income, and there were plenty of thriving small businesses. The VA hospital and