Chapter 22: Charity Night

Brody's POV

I had never wanted to hit anyone harder than I wanted to hit the man on that stage.

I sat in the second row of an arena with eight thousand people, in a rented tuxedo that fit badly, with my sister's hand clamped around my wrist.

"Stay in your seat," Regan said, without moving her lips.

"I am in my seat."

"Your knee is bouncing. You're going to knock the senator's wife into the aisle."

I made my knee stop.

Maddie had asked me for one thing that afternoon, in my kitchen, with the folder in her hands and no sleep behind her.

"Don't come up," she'd said. "Not unless he touches me. This one is mine."

I had said yes before I could think.

It was the hardest yes I had ever given.

On the stage, the host said something about charity and children and the MacIntyre Foundation's tenth year.

The crowd roared.

Hayes came out in a navy suit and a white shirt open at the throat, waving to the cheap seats.

Beside him, the Aldine chairman sat in the front row with his wife, smiling.

I had expected a hot-headed man. Hayes was smooth.

"Thank you," he said, into the microphone. "Thank you. I want to say something tonight that isn't about football."

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