Текст книги "Covering Kendall"

Автор книги: Julie Brannagh

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Rod’s voice was nervous. “Hey, Rock, the boss lady would like to chat with you for a minute. C’mon over here, will ya?”

“I don’t have to talk to that bitch. Tell her to talk to my agent.”

“No can do, buddy. She insists.”

A few seconds later, she heard Rocky Hill’s “What the fuck do you want?”

For the first time since she’d walked in the building that morning, she smiled.

“Hi Rocky, it’s Kendall Tracy. I’d love to do this in person, but it can’t wait. You’re cut from the team. We’ve disabled your playbook tablet already, so there’s no need to return it. We’ll pack up and mail the items in your locker to the address on file. Sorry it didn’t work out.”

She heard a few seconds of silence, and then the man who (allegedly) beat up his one-third-his-size girlfriend in the lobby of one of the most famous hotels in the world recovered his voice.

“I’ll make you pay for this, bitch.” He took a noisy breath. “You’d better watch your back, because I’ll be there when you least expect it, and I’ll make sure that pretty face isn’t quite so pretty anymore. You dig?” His voice was low, chilling, and furious. Kendall heard the other Miners employees in the office gasp.

“Yes, Rocky, I dig. Thanks for the warning.” She didn’t bother waiting for him to speak. She hung up, glanced around, and said, “Did you all hear that?”

The five PR department employees and Sydney all nodded.

“Great. I hope you’ll back me up.” She picked up Sydney’s phone again, dialed 911, and asked to speak to the Las Vegas Police Department.

AN HOUR LATER, Rocky Hill was in custody again for threatening Kendall. Rod was on his way back to San Francisco. He’d be fired as soon as he returned to the office and Kendall could get the company property in his possession back. Kendall walked into a crowded conference room and stood behind the chair at the head of the table.

“I’d like to thank Sydney and the PR group for their assistance with what’s going to happen this afternoon and tomorrow morning.” She glanced around at the thirty people. “I have scheduled a press conference for later today. We’d like to get out in front of the information as much as we can, and I’d like as many of you as possible to be on hand for this.” She saw nods from most of the employees. The front office guys looked on stonily. She knew all hell would break loose when she fired Rod, but it was unavoidable.

She pulled in a long breath. “Rocky Hill allegedly assaulted his girlfriend in the lobby of a hotel in Las Vegas a few hours ago. She is in the hospital. He was arrested. I have cut Rocky Hill from the team.” She waited for the gasps (and some applause) to die down. “Due to his threats against my safety, he is back in jail. He is not allowed in the building under any circumstances. The San Francisco Police Department will be coordinating security here and at the stadium until further notice. There will be more information as it is available.”

“Our offensive line—” the offensive coordinator sputtered.

“You’ll need to find another guard. I will not reconsider.” She glanced down at her notes. “The Miners’ owner will be in attendance at the press conference today as well, which will be held in the auditorium at five o’clock. We’ll make a statement and answer questions.” She glanced at the offensive coordinator and the head coach. “If you could possibly work on bringing in some guys for a tryout tomorrow or Friday, I’d appreciate that.”

“We have a game on Sunday. In Atlanta.”

“I realize that. Let’s plug in Rocky’s backup and see if there might be someone available on the West Coast, for starters.” She glanced around the room again. “Any questions? I’ll be in my office if you need to talk with me.” She gathered up her notes, her tablet, and a bottle of water and walked out of the conference room.

Her phone rang again seconds later. She glanced at the screen long enough to see it was Drew. Oh, God. She had a million things to do, and virtually no time to accomplish them in. Plus, she felt guilty. She should have been there when he woke up from his surgery. He was probably so hurt and angry with her, and she deserved it.

She swallowed hard and clicked “talk” on the screen.

“Drew?”

“Hi Kendall, it’s actually Drew’s mom, Bonnie. Do you have a moment to talk?”

“Is he okay? How is he?”

Kendall knew she should have asked how Bonnie was and the usual small-talk pleasantries when someone she’d never met called, but Drew’s mom on the phone . . . maybe he couldn’t speak for himself. Maybe it didn’t go well. Her heart moved into her throat. A cold fist clutched her stomach.

“He’ll be fine,” Bonnie said. “He’s asking for you.”

She closed her eyes with relief and concentrated on taking a breath so her knees wouldn’t buckle.

“I’m so sorry I’m not there yet. Things here are not good, and I have to fix a lot of problems before I can get back on a plane,” Kendall said. “I–I’m so sorry.” She held in the sigh of frustration and anger. She was trying to concentrate on the eleven-hundred things that needed to happen in the next hour, but right now, she needed a few minutes to compose herself. She wasn’t going to get it. She headed toward her office while conversations swirled around her. “Is there any way I could possibly talk with him?”

“He’s not allowed to use his cell phone in the room, so I’m outside of the hospital right now. Would you like his room number? There’s a phone in there.”

“Oh, yes, please.”

Kendall skirted her desk, plunked down in the desk chair, and grabbed a pen and the first piece of paper that lay atop her desk: the receipt from today’s turkey and provolone sandwich. Bonnie gave her Drew’s room number and the hospital’s main number.

“I hope we’ll get to meet you soon,” Bonnie said.

“I hope so too, Mrs. McCoy.”

“Call me Bonnie,” she said. She let out a sigh. “The doctor said Drew might be in rehab for as long as a year.”

Hot tears rose in Kendall’s eyes. In other words, the injury was a hell of a lot more than just the labrum tear and was most likely the end for Drew’s NFL career.

The Miners’ PR director breezed through the door of her office and said, “Hey, Kendall, I need to talk with you—oh. I didn’t see you’re on the phone.”

Kendall made the arm motion that meant “I’ll be with you in a minute.” She heard Bonnie say, “It sounds like you’re pretty busy. Maybe we should talk later.”

“I will call Drew as soon as possible. I promise I will be there as soon as I can get out of here and get on a plane,” Kendall said. The misery of being somewhere she didn’t want to be right now and grief over Drew’s situation threatened to engulf her. “Bonnie, again, thanks so much for calling me.”

“I’m happy to do it, Kendall. We’ll look forward to seeing you soon.”

Two hours later, Kendall had spent a few minutes in the ladies’ room with a bottle of Visine, a hairbrush, and a lipstick. She was currently standing in front of an auditorium crammed with a couple of hundred media professionals, most of the Miners’ front office and coaching staff, and she glanced down at the notes Sydney had put in her hand fifteen minutes before.

She read the same statement she’d made in front of the gathered Miners’ staff earlier today and added the information that the Miners had been in touch with Rocky Hill’s victim and were assisting her with advocacy and medical care. In other words, the Miners were advised by their brand-new team attorney that they should offer Hill’s now ex-girlfriend a settlement and the assistance of an attorney to file a civil suit against Mr. Hill to recoup the costs of her medical care, but Kendall wasn’t going to mention that in public.

Kendall saw the file of the security camera footage from the hotel earlier that afternoon. It made her want to vomit, and then she wanted to scream. Even if she’d cut his ass when she originally wanted to, she wasn’t sure it would have helped, but now it was all about protecting the franchise from liability.

“The Miners have also made a donation to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. Our organization is committed to doing what we can to assist women and children affected by domestic violence in our community.”

Those words were so empty. If the league was really committed to ending domestic violence, they’d stop signing guys who had been arrested and charged with a domestic violence related crime as early as college. One thing’s for sure: She wouldn’t sign a guy like this again. The team had known he had an arrest when they’d made him an offer. He swore he’d never do it again.

Words were cheap.

Kendall glanced out over the assembled crowd. “Are there any questions?”

There were questions, waving hands, and shouting from all over the room.

“Why didn’t you cut Hill after his last DV arrest?”

“Did anyone in your organization know he’d been arrested on a DV complaint in college?”

“Did the Miners require Hill to take anger management classes or work with a therapist after his last arrest?”

“As the only female GM in the league, do you consider Hill’s alleged behavior a personal failure?”

Kendall gripped the sides of the lectern and took the deepest breath she could with the invisible steel bands tightening around her chest. Damn right it was a “personal failure.”

She unstuck her hands long enough to pick up the bottle of water in front of her and take a sip. She knew Hill’s victim had signed paperwork holding the team blameless when she accepted the financial settlement that had been hammered out in less than an hour earlier in the afternoon, but she also knew her next comments were most likely not going to be well-received by anyone with the Miners.

She nodded at the sports reporter from Yahoo that had shouted out the question about her being the only female GM. “I’ll answer your question, but I’d like everyone to have a seat first.” She waited until the rustling of two hundred-plus people sitting down stopped. The only sound she heard was the clicking of cameras. She took another breath, willed herself to be calm, and looked into the TV cameras.

“Yes. I consider what allegedly happened in Las Vegas this morning between a former Miners player and his girlfriend to be a personal failure. I have already spoken with her and offered my heartfelt apology as well as an apology from the organization. Mr. Hill has been charged with this type of incident before. I urged the team to part ways with him at that time. I was overruled.” She forced herself to breathe. “As a team executive and as a woman, I don’t want anyone playing for the Miners who believes it’s appropriate to—allegedly, of course—hit a woman. When we all continue to ignore these incidents or excuse them because the guy’s a ‘great player’ or ‘irreplaceable,’ our words about stopping the spread of domestic violence or support for its victims are empty.” She shook her head. “This will not happen again on my watch. Maybe other franchises choose to turn a blind eye. I won’t.”

She glanced around the auditorium. “Next?”

It started slowly. She heard one pair of hands clapping, probably Sydney’s. More joined in. She felt a hand on her forearm. The Miners’ owner had stepped forward and stuck out his hand to shake hers. More cameras went off. She’d like to believe he supported her comments, but she knew it might be a different story when the cameras were off and they were alone in the team’s conference room. She wasn’t going to dwell on it now; she needed to answer questions, mop up, and get her ass on a plane.

When the press tired of asking questions about this morning’s incident, they turned their attention to the Miners’ struggles this season. Why would a team that won it all the year before find themselves at 3–5 midseason? How did she intend to patch the existing holes on the offensive and defensive lines? Did she believe the team would be able to address some of the more glaring needs on the roster through the draft, or were they planning on spending some money in free agency?

“Will the Miners be going after Drew McCoy of the Sharks on the offseason despite his injury?” a reporter in the back shouted.

“How will McCoy’s possible signing with the Miners affect your off-the-field relationship?” another reporter called out seconds later.

“The Miners are interested in Mr. McCoy, but we’ll also be taking a look at multiple free agents on the offseason. There are lots of games to be played this season before speculating on whom the team would like to sign for next year.”

“What about the fact you’re romantically involved with him?” A woman in the front barked out.

“No comment,” Kendall said. She heard several more reporters shouting questions about how both teams reacted to their relationship, etcetera. She gave those in the auditorium a nod. “Thanks, everyone. If we have further information, we’ll let you know.” She walked off of the small stage, pushed through the door leading to the corridor outside of her office, and took a deep breath for the first time in an hour.

“Ms. Tracy,” the Miners’ owner said from behind her. “I’d like to see you in the conference room, please.”

“Of course,” she said.

The team’s employees were going back to work all around her. She was surprised and gratified to get a few pats on the back, some handshakes, and “Good job, Kendall” from more than one of them. They all had no control over what the media would report on the issues facing the team, but she’d done her best to put a good face on it.

Kendall reached out for the conference room doorknob. The director of player personnel, Rod Carpenter’s, hand closed over it first. He glared at her.

“Hello,” she said to him.

“Hello to you, Ms. Tracy,” he said. “It was nice working with you.”

Her hand froze in mid-air. She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re about to be fired.” Rod’s smile was smug. “I’m sure you’ll catch on somewhere else.”

She bit back the name she’d like to call him. She heaved a sigh, shoved the door open, and walked through it. The department heads were filing in. The owner gestured for her to sit in the chair at the head of the table. It was a bit of a surprise, but she accepted it. It took a few minutes for everyone to be seated, and the owner got to his feet.

“When I walked into the building today, Kendall, I was considering buying your contract out and urging you to go to another team. The transition has been rough. I know you took this job because we were in a tight spot.” He tapped his fingertips on the table in front of him. “It wasn’t your first choice, either. I have been impressed, though, at your handling of situations the team has needed to face for a while now. I believe your actions today and your comments during today’s press conference defused a pretty explosive situation. That being said, I’d like you to stay on as GM. I’m happy to negotiate a mutually satisfactory salary and benefits package commensurate with your responsibilities, and you can make your own decisions as far as staff and assets.”

The room was silent. He stuck out his hand. “Will you accept?”

Chapter Sixteen

KENDALL STARED UP at him in shock. Either he was spooked over having nobody at all to run the team if she took one of the three offers she currently had on the table, or he’d heard from his lawyers, and it wasn’t good news. Mr. Curtis had never seemed especially supportive. She knew the other guys she worked with were probably bending his ear to hire one of them.

The other guys at the table were all staring at her too. Most looked disgusted. Sydney grinned at her. “Well, boss?” she said.

“I’m not taking the job unless you’re still here,” Kendall said to Sydney. The owner’s hand was still outstretched to her. “I have conditions,” she told him.

Mr. Curtis lowered his hand. “So we’ll need to talk a little before you can shake my hand and tell me you’ll stay.”

“Will I have the ability to make decisions about team and front office personnel without interference?”

“Yes.”

“I can hire and fire as I see fit,” Kendall said.

“Yes. It’s in the job description of a GM to do so.”

“Okay, then. Since I still hold the title, I’d like to start now.” Kendall grabbed her phone out of her pocket and sent the Miners’ network administrator a text:

Please disable Rod Carpenter’s Internet access/security passes ASAP. Text me when you’re finished.

“I’d like Sydney to stay, and I’m going to make it worth her while to do so.”

“I approve,” the owner said. The other guys at the table were still silent. One was fiddling with his phone. Kendall would almost bet her house he was currently accepting an offer from another team. “Anything else?”

Her phone chirped with an incoming text from the IT guy:

Done. Anything else?

She texted back:

Not right now. Thank you.

“I’d like to dismiss everyone from this meeting but Rod Carpenter and Mr. Curtis.”

“I have things to do,” Rod said. “I can’t sit here all day—”

“Sit down, Rod,” the owner said.

He dropped back into his chair. The other department heads filed out of the room. The door clicked shut behind them, and there were a few seconds of silence.

Kendall glanced down the table at Rod. “You’re fired. Please turn in your tablet, your corporate credit card, and the keys to your company car right now.”

“You can’t do this. You can’t fire me!” By now, he was up out of his chair and pointing at Kendall with a shaking finger. “She can’t fire me!” he told the owner. “She doesn’t have the authority. Tell her!”

The Miners’ owner shook his head. Kendall dialed zero on the conference room phone. “Please send security in here to help Mr. Carpenter clean out his desk and escort him out of the building. I want him off the property as quickly as possible.”

He was still ranting. “I’ve been with this organization for ten years now! I know everything, and I won’t hesitate to use that knowledge! You can’t fire me!”

Two uniformed San Francisco police officers entered the room, got on either side of him, took his arms, and hauled him out of his chair. They marched him out of the room.

“Forget helping him clean out his desk. We’ll do it,” Kendall called after them. “Let’s get him out of here as quickly as possible.”

A few minutes later, Rod was in a cab headed home, and Kendall turned to face Mr. Curtis. “There are a few other things I’d like to talk with you about.”

“I thought so,” he said. He held out one arm. “Lead the way, Ms. Tracy.”

DREW AWOKE IN his dimly lit and quiet hospital room to his mom’s hand on his good shoulder.

“Honey, I’m sorry to wake you, but we’ve got to go back to your house for the night. Your dad’s falling asleep. Will you be okay without me for a few hours?”

“I’m fine, Bonnie,” his dad insisted.

“You can’t sleep in that recliner, and you know it. You’ll be in traction by morning.”

His dad let out a snort. His mom kissed Drew’s forehead.

“Mom, the nurses are here. I’ll be fine,” he said. “You and Dad need some sleep. Are you sure you’re okay to drive home?”

His house was only twenty minutes from the hospital, but it was late. He knew his mom would sit up all night fussing over him, no matter how many times he told her he was fine and she should go to sleep. Plus, the hide-a-bed thing in the corner of his room didn’t look comfortable. They needed some rest. He’d be fine overnight.

“Your dad is sleepy. I’ll drive. I’ll ask the nurse to come in here and check on you,” she said. “We’ll be back in the morning. I promise.” She smoothed the hair off his forehead with a gentle hand. “We love you, honey.”

“I love you too. Call me when you get to my house so I know you made it safely, okay? Owen left some stuff in the fridge for you in case you’re hungry.”

His mom shook her head. “He didn’t have to do that. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

His dad shook his good hand, his mom blew him a kiss, and they left.

An hour or so later, he wasn’t sure why the nurses hadn’t been in yet to check on him. Maybe his mom bribed them to let him sleep. He hit the button to sit up a bit in his bed. The window showed full-on darkness outside. In other words, he’d been pretty much out since he had the graham crackers and apple juice post-surgery. He was hungry as hell. An experimental nudge of his shoulder made him clench his teeth in pain. The anesthesia had worn off. He needed a bathroom. And food. And some pain medication. He wasn’t sure which was more urgent, but he wasn’t going to be able to get these items for himself. He located the nurse’s call button in the sheets and gave it a gentle press.

Another dark-haired nurse walked into the room thirty seconds later. “I see you’ve finally decided to join us,” she said with a big grin.

“I wondered what my mom said to you.”

“She’s a very persuasive woman,” the nurse said. “Let me guess what you want right now. What’s your pain level from one to ten?”

“It’s an eight,” he said through clenched teeth. “I also need to visit the men’s room.”

“Well, alrighty then,” she said, and he almost laughed out loud at the expression on her face. “Let’s see what I can do for you here.” She crossed the room almost silently to wash her hands in the attached bathroom. She stepped out into the hall for a moment, engaged in some elaborate pantomime with another nurse, and came back into his room with a syringe of what he was guessing was pain medication. “I’ll put this in your IV first, and then we’ll get you a portable urinal. Will that work?”

“I guess. Do you all have something I could eat?”

“I’ll get to it. Don’t worry,” she said. “We refrigerated your dinner, so there’s always that option.” The nurse harpooned the IV line with the needle and slowly depressed the syringe’s plunger.

“I’m guessing a Dick’s burger is out,” Drew joked.

“It’s almost one AM, my friend. Dick’s has gone home for the night.” She finished administering the pain meds and produced a portable urinal. “Will this do, or do you need me to help you to the bathroom?”

“I’ll take that,” he said. He let out a sigh as the plastic container vanished beneath the sheet and blanket covering him. “May I ask you a somewhat weird question?”

“I’ll bet you’re going to ask me if it’s freaky to touch some guy’s junk I’m not sleeping with.”

“Well, yeah. Plus, I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m guessing your normal policy is to know a woman’s name before she starts getting grabby with Mr. Happy.” She grinned at him. “My name’s Cheryl. And to answer your question, it’s part of my job. Obviously, I can’t say anything about yours to anyone else due to HIPAA laws, but if that wasn’t the case, I’d be telling the other nurses that you’re well-endowed,” she teased.

He had to laugh. “That would help me get a few dates,” he said.

“I don’t think you have a problem getting dates, Mr. McCoy,” she said. She extracted the plastic receptacle from beneath his sheet and blanket and disposed of it before turning to face him again. “I’ve heard about you.”

“Is that so?”

“Hell, yeah.”

Whatever she gave him was starting to work. Maybe he didn’t need to eat after all right now. His eyes slid closed, and Cheryl’s voice sounded like it was coming from a long distance away. She was taking his blood pressure and his temperature. Again.

“Okay, Drew. You take a little nap, and buzz me when you wake up again. I’ll make sure you’ll get something to eat.”

“Thank you,” he tried to say. He wasn’t sure if he spoke aloud or not. He floated on an almost pain-free cloud of warmth and comfort.

DREW FELT A soft hand taking his and a whispered, “Baby, I’m here.”

“Mmpht,” he said. He smelled green apples. He was dreaming about Kendall. If he opened his eyes, she’d be gone, and he’d be alone. In the midst of the fuzz of being half-asleep and the pain medication, he felt someone lie down next to him in the bed. He felt soft hair brush his chin as she laid her head on his good shoulder and breathed in her sweet fragrance. Shit, it felt so real. He didn’t want to wake up and discover it wasn’t.

“I missed you so much,” he said to the woman in his dream.

“I missed you too,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

He let out a long breath.

KENDALL OPENED HER eyes the next morning to Drew having a murmured conference with a tall, dark-haired nurse. He still clasped Kendall’s hand.

“I’d like some breakfast, but first, I think I need to visit the men’s room,” he said to the nurse.

“You’ll need some assistance for that.”

“Are you sure?” he said. “Will I be able to take a shower today?”

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to get those stylish boxer briefs off by yourself right now, Mr. McCoy,” she teased.

“Normally I’d think that was a great thing,” he muttered. The nurse burst out laughing.

“How about a sponge bath after your trip to the men’s room?” she coaxed. “The doc was nice enough to use some waterproof sutures in your shoulder, so we’ll try a shower tomorrow morning before you leave.”

“My hair—”

“I have some lovely dry shampoo with your name on it.” The nurse glanced over at Kendall and grinned. “Good morning. And you are?”

Kendall shoved her hair out of her eyes. “I’m Kendall.”

“I’m guessing you two know each other.”

“You could say that,” Kendall said.

She probably looked like hell. The hospital was probably used to seeing people in less than magazine cover model condition, but she didn’t want Drew to scream and run when he glanced over at her.

“We don’t usually let visitors bunk with the patients, but I’ll overlook it.” The nurse stuck out her hand. “I’m Cheryl. I’m about to go off-duty, but I’ll be back at eleven tonight. I’ll take Drew to the men’s room, and the day nurse will be here to help him with the rest of the items on his to-do list.”

Kendall shook her hand. “Is there coffee anywhere?”

“There’s an espresso cart in the waiting area,” Cheryl said.

“God bless you,” Kendall said and shoved herself off Drew’s bed. “I’ll be right back.”

She hurried into the bathroom. By the time she emerged, Drew was slowly making his way across the hospital room. His legs weren’t the problem. His heavily-bandaged shoulder was affecting his balance. Kendall was fairly sure the pain meds were creating an issue as well. Cheryl, the nurse, was leading him toward the bathroom.

“Take it easy, Drew. We’re almost there.”

Drew glanced over at Kendall. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she said. “Want me to get you a coffee?”

She saw his lips curve into a smile. “Hell, yeah. Tall latte, please.”

Drew was sitting up in the reclining chair when she walked back into his room, and he was eating what looked like breakfast for five. “I’m a little hungry,” he explained.

She put his to-go cup on the rolling table in front of him and pulled a folding chair closer to him. “It looks good.” She peeled the wrapper off of some kind of protein breakfast bar she had bought from the barista.

“Want some?” he said. He pushed the tray closer to her while he unearthed another fork from under a second plate.

She held out the protein bar. “Want to share?”

“Sure.”

Drew smiled at her. He offered to share his food, but he seemed somewhat preoccupied. Maybe he was just in pain and still tired. He seemed happier to see Cheryl than he had been to see her, though, and the first gnawing tendrils of worry started in her gut. She cut the protein bar in half with a plastic knife and handed it to him.

“Isn’t blueberry your favorite?”

“Fruit is good,” he said. He didn’t meet her eyes. He nudged a plateful of scrambled eggs and turkey bacon in her direction. “Have some.”

She took a bite of food that tasted like sawdust in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and said, “What’s wrong, Drew?”

“What do you mean?” He took another bite of fresh fruit salad. He still wasn’t looking at her.

“We’re talking past each other. We’re not talking to each other.” She hauled in a breath. “Are you mad at me?”

He put his utensils down and sat back in the chair. “Why would I be mad at you?”

He looked into her face, but he wasn’t smiling. If she had to give his expression a name, it would be “wary.” He wasn’t committing himself or his feelings to this conversation. He might have been holding her hand when she woke up this morning, but he wasn’t extending himself in any way, shape, or form.

She stared at him for a moment. “Maybe you could tell me how you feel instead of answering a question with a question.”

He took a sip of coffee and set the to-go cup back down on the table. “Truthfully, I’m hurt.”

“I know I wasn’t there when you woke up yesterday—”

“No, you weren’t. You didn’t call. I thought it wasn’t important to you.”

“Your mom called me yesterday with your phone. Did she tell you I was in the middle of a gigantic firefight?”

“She said you had an emergency you needed to take care of.”

Kendall sucked in a breath. “I did. I cut Rocky Hill yesterday after he beat the hell out of his girlfriend in Las Vegas in front of several hundred witnesses. I had to do a press conference, among other things. I also fired one of the front office staff for defying me when I said I didn’t want him to bail Hill out of jail. I didn’t leave the office until eleven o’clock last night.” She pushed the eggs around on her plate. “I was at the airport to fly out yesterday morning, Sydney called me, and I had to turn around and go back. Didn’t you see what happened on the news?”

“The TV in here is broken. The hospital said they’d either replace it or fix it today. ESPN wasn’t high on my list right then.” He folded his arms in front of him, or at least tried to. She stared at him.

“You have to know that I did my best to get here,” she said. “The Miners’ owner was nice enough to let me use his plane so I could be here late last night, or actually, early this morning. I left as soon as I could and I didn’t do this to hurt you.” She hauled in a breath. “You are very important to me.”

He gave her a nod. They sat in silence for a minute or so. He glanced away from her and swallowed hard.

“Drew, what’s the real reason for this?”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I know you’re hurt because I wasn’t here when you woke up, but there’s something more to this.”

He folded his lips, gave up attempting to cross his arms, and folded his hands in his lap. “Are you staying with the Miners?”

“I wasn’t going to until late yesterday afternoon,” she said.

“What happened then?”