3
Cleveland, OH (2 years ago)—Austin
Austin O’Grady woke up to the morning sun hovering over Lake Erie. The view from his contemporary waterfront home was spectacular. He’d found the gated community in Bratenahl, Ohio, when he signed with the Cleveland Cavaliers and purchased the five-million-dollar estate with his basketball earnings.
Austin forced himself out of bed and stood naked in front of the floor-to-ceiling window in the master bedroom, stretching as he gazed out over the lake. But he didn’t have time to stand there. He’d committed to a workout at the practice facility with his teammates.
And he was ready to test the coach’s prediction that if he worked hard enough, he could dominate the league next season and be the first player in basketball history to have a perfect game—five points, five rebounds, five assists, five steals, and five blocked shots in a single game.
He had a goal. He had a plan. He had the motivation. Nothing was going to stop him.
A few hours later, after a perfect workout, his legs felt great, better than they had all year. Everything for him was clicking except his love life, which always seemed more exciting to his family than it was. But he couldn’t complain. He had no trouble finding a date to attend a party or share his bed, but no real sparks.
And he’d yet to meet a woman worthy of the MacKlenna badass moniker. He wasn’t even sure another woman like JL and his aunts existed. So for now, as long as the women he dated liked sports, he’d keep asking them out and measuring them against an impossible standard.
He was running on zero energy when he made the trip back home, but at least he had time to take a nap before meeting with his writing instructor to review the latest chapter of his book, How to Play Basketball and Win.
But when he woke up, he was still exhausted and considered canceling the meeting. But Pops had raised him to keep appointments, so Austin dragged himself out again.
The meeting with his writing instructor was only a couple of miles away, and since it was such a beautiful day, what better way to enjoy the sun on his face than from the back of his Yamaha?
The session was productive, and at the end of it, Willie walked him to the door. “What have you got scheduled for the rest of the day?”
“Well, Shakespeare, I plan to go home, eat, take a nap, and review my notes.” Austin walked out and climbed back on his bike.
Willie watched from his doorway, frowning a bit. “Where’s your Corvette? You shouldn’t be riding a motorcycle.”
“I shouldn’t be doing a lot of things I do.” Austin pulled the clutch toward him and revved the engine without moving forward.
“And where’s your helmet, man? You shouldn’t be riding a bike, and you shouldn’t be riding one without a helmet.”
“You already told me.” Austin put the bike in gear, released the clutch, and cruised down the street, revving the cycle again just to bug Willie. Then, in the middle of a third rev, the motorcycle popped up and shot off with the front tire hovering above the pavement.
Let go, Austin. Let go!
But he couldn’t. His grip tightened as he struggled to hold on. When the back wheel spun out of control, his heart leaped into his throat, and he was terrified he might slide off the back. He used all his strength to shift his weight forward, over the handlebars, hoping it would force the front wheel back onto the pavement.
But the bike was heading straight toward a telephone pole. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it except tense up and prepare for impact.
The crash was explosive, metal crunching all around him. He couldn’t turn his body out of the way, so he ended up swiping his entire left side and spun above the ground like a horizontal pinwheel before hitting the lawn facedown.
The pain was so intense he screamed, and he couldn’t move from his waist down, which terrified him even more.
Willie ran toward him, and as he got closer, his jaw dropped, his face turned pasty white, and his eyes flooded with tears. At that moment, Willie confirmed what Austin already knew.
He was fucked up.
Willie squatted beside him and called 9-1-1. “Motorcycle accident a block from City Hall on Bratenahl Road. Cavaliers star player Austin O’Grady is seriously injured. Hurry.”
It felt like someone was skinning Austin alive, starting with his lower body, and he was beginning to lose consciousness.
Willie squeezed his hand. “It’s going to be all right. Help’s on the way. Hang in there.”
But Austin knew he would never be all right again.
His life was draining away.
Then everything went black, and he found himself looking down at his own body.
Go back, Austin. It’s not your time.
It hurts, Mom. It hurts real bad.
It won’t always hurt. Go back for Pops. Go back for JL. They need you. You’re not a quitter. Stay alive. The love of your life is coming.
4
Cambridge, MA—Ensley
The Uber driver parked his Ford at the curb on tree-lined Channing Street in Cambridge, and Ensley MacAndrew Williams thanked and paid him. Then she climbed out, grabbing her computer bag.
The driver opened the trunk and removed her wheeled weekender. She slung the computer bag over her shoulder and accepted the luggage, wheeling it up the walkway to the front door of the Williams family’s Dutch Colonial house. Her ancestor built the residence in 1890, and a long line of family members, including her, had lived here rent-free while attending Harvard University.
She had hundreds of warm memories of living in the house during her four years as an undergrad and two years while at Boston College working on her master’s.
As she punched in the familiar security code to open the front door, her cell phone rang, and her boss’s ID popped
