“That is your signature on the letter,” I shoot back.
“I think my boss may have forged my name,” she replies, but I shake my head.
“No one forged anything, Katrina, because that would be unethical. And you and I both know that you are the only one struggling with ethics in that practice.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I was your client and, well…you slept with me in your office, didn’t you? Repeatedly.” My words bite and I say them with venom because I’m so pissed I can’t see straight.
“I realize you are angry and you’re saying things that you don’t necessarily mean right now, but do not think I’m going to sit here and allow you to disrespect me to my face.”
“You disrespected your self.”
“I didn’t write that letter,” she sighs, rubbing her temples, her usual calm demeanor showing signs of stress. “But we’re both in agreement that I had a lapse in judgement. It won’t happen again, Dak. Nothing physical can ever happen between us again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t happen again!”
Her sincerity seems genuine, but my world is falling apart. How could I believe her? And who the hell is she to end things? I came over to end them first.
“I will talk to my supervisor and see what can be done about the letter, but I imagine not much.”
“And why is that?” I ask suspiciously.
“I recently discovered that the NFL may have a whole rebranding plan that includes keeping you off the field for a while longer and I think our practice was deliberately selected to help implement it.”
Cap and I have talked about the leagues image problem many times. Players like me who help get the defensive wins are also, according to their metrics, part of the problem. People want hard hits, but they don’t want to see anyone get hurt. It’s the most ridiculous thing. Football is as close to war as you can get, yet they’re expecting zero casualties. What I do on the field is what earns teams, wins and championships, but right now they’re more worried about audience perception and that’s what players like McCall improve.
“And you’re just telling me all of this?”
“I just found out from my boss after the pictures of us surfaced,” she admits. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you.”
“And so what?” I’m up on my feet and pacing the floor now, my hands running through my hair. I’m on the edge. “I’m supposed to just trust you now?”
“Yes,” she says firmly. “Because that’s what I hoped this relationship was based on, Dak. Trust. Even when it’s difficult. But I can see now that maybe that was a mistake.”
Her words hang heavy in the air, the silence thick and stifling. The chasm of betrayal between us has widened into a vast, insurmountable gulf.
I stop pacing, standing a few feet away from her. She’s so damn beautiful it pains me to look at her. It hurts so damn much. I want to grab her into my arms and tell her that I don’t give a shit even if she wrote the letter. That’s how far gone I am over this woman. I think about the possibility of fucking some sense into her. Making her see the errors of her ways so we can kiss and make up.
But what if she did write the letter? Can I bring someone like that into my little girl’s life? Can I ever trust her with not only my heart but one day Bella’s too?
“Don’t worry about talking to your supervisor. I’ll deal with the team on my own. I’ve got a lawyer, an agent, and a lot more resources than you could ever muster.”
Now I’m just being a prick.
I want to hurt her and I suffer the way I am.
I just wish I felt a lot better about doing it.
“Dak...”
Tears are forming in her eyes and I can’t bear to witness them. I don’t let her finish her sentence and head for the front door.
“Enough of this. I’m done.”
“I broke every rule for you,” she calls out frantically. “I put my career and my ethics on the line, because I thought we had something real, something that mattered.”
The pain in her voice seems real.
