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Carrie looked up from her laptop when she heard Harrison come home. She spun around when he set something on the table with a loud thud.

"What is that?" Carrie asked as she made her way into the kitchen. It was a large white box with a lid, almost like the box printing paper came in.

"Fan mail. And only the ones my secretary kept."

"You have a secretary?"

He nodded and hung his coat in the closet beside the door that led into the garage. When he came back, Carrie could see the tip of an ace bandage on his right hand.

"So did you break your hand?"

"Luckily, no. Although I dislocated two knuckles that the doctor had to pop back in."

"Will you be able to play next Sunday?"

Harrison nodded. "I went and saw coach and the training staff. They said I have to wear this kind of glove that looks like a mitten, but it's hard. That's because there's a lot of bruising on the top of my hand, as well as cuts. So I can't make a fist until those cuts are healed to keep them from reopening. You saw how much it bled."

"That's your right hand too."

He smiled. "Don't worry, I can write just as well with my left hand. You can hardly see the difference."

"How did you learn to do that?"

"Well Boston College is one of the more difficult schools to get into. They offered me a full scholarship for football but I had to score above as 1700 on my SAT's and they also looked at my AP test scores. In high school, I took this class called SAT prep. And I had to take so many notes for that class that I pretty much leaned how to write good with both hands. When my right hand got tired, I'd switch to my left."

"Wow."

Harrison opened the box. It was packed full of letters and envelops. Meanwhile, Carrie came back into the kitchen with her laptop.

"Did you ever hear back from the insurance company?"

He got his answer when she set her laptop on the table. "Well then..."

Carrie had been looking at Jeeps while he was gone. There was his answer from the insurance company.

"They said it's totaled."

"Are they going to cover it?"

She shrugged. "I haven't heard yet. The only way they wouldn't cover all of it is if the accident was my fault."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I know that. But you never know how the story will get twisted around."

"Then I'll be your lawyer."

Harrison couldn't help but laugh when he saw her facial expression. "I didn't go to college for four years just to play football. I have my bachelors degree in law."

"I can't see you as a lawyer. No offense."

"None taken. You just see me as the NFL's highest paid player. I make just a bit more than a lawyer. Only a few million."

"Sure."

He made his way around the table to stand in front of her. Then he took his hands in hers as best he could with his right hand all bandaged up.

"I'm really happy I didn't have to fall back on the lawyer gig because otherwise, we wouldn't have met."

"That's true."

Their faces slowly inched closer and until their lips met for a kiss.

The Guy Named Harrison: Book OneWhere stories live. Discover now