She lets out a long breath. “Listen, I won’t beat around the bush. They’re being real jerks about it, and I don’t think talking to them is going to help. They’re claiming the incident puts you in breach of your contract.”
A full body panic washes over me. “How?”
“They’re pointing to the morality clause. I’m having the lawyers look at it as we speak. The wording is a little vague, but they may have grounds to drop their sponsorship?—”
Her words turn to static noise in my head. They want to drop me for going to the police station to clear up something I didn’t even do?
“But I didn’t do anything wrong. It was a misunderstanding.” A short, rough laugh escapes from my lips, despite the fact I don’t feel like this situation is the least bit funny. “I moved into my new place last night, but the realtor forgot to leave a key, so I went in through a window, and I guess a neighbor called because they thought I was breaking in and then when the police showed up, I agreed to go with them until they could verify my story.”
I take a deep breath, then add, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
It feels like if I just keep saying it, maybe it’ll clear away all suspicion.
“I know,” Everly says in a tone that bleeds sincerity. “I already knew this was a misunderstanding even before you explained it. If I really thought you were out there breaking and entering into homes, this call would have been to sayIwas dropping you.”
The pit in my stomach turns into a boulder. I don’t know what I’d do without Everly. She’s fought for me from day one. She’s the reason I have a sponsor at all and the reason I’m here in Moonshot training at Premier. She believes in me in a way few others do.
“Okay,” I say, swallowing hard. “What now? If I can’t call them, what else can I do?”
Everly is a well-respected agent. If she tells Meyer that I didn’t do it, then they’ll believe her. Right?
She lets out a heavy sigh. “To be honest, I don’t think they really believe you did it either. Or rather, I don’t think they care. This is about them avoiding any potential bad press. They just had that scandal with the president of their board having an inappropriate relationship with one of their athletes and I think they’re still in damage control mode.”
“There has to be something I can do.” I continue walking to my Jeep. In crisis, I’ve found that moving forward is the only way not to drown in anxiety.
“I’m on it. I only wanted to give you a heads-up in case they contact you directly. If they do, don’t respond until the lawyers have gone over the contract and I know all our options.”
“All right.” Doing nothing is sort of the opposite of my natural tendency but at least for tonight I can focus on moving in and getting settled. “Thanks, Ev.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Voices in the background grow louder as if Everly is walking into a room full of people. “I have to go. I’ll be in touch later tonight or tomorrow.”
I nod, say goodbye, and then end the call. With my phone still clutched in one hand, I let out a breath. Everly will fix this. She has to. I can’t even think about any other outcome. A new notification pings and I refocus, blinking away the haze as I unlock my phone. One new email.
The panic resumes its chokehold on me as I click on it. Everly warned me they might reach out but seeing it in writing has a new sort of terror clawing at my insides. It’s short and concise. Somehow polite and rude at the same time.
Dear Ms. Walsh,
We regret to inform you that due to recent behavior, you have broken clause 14.1.3 in your contract, as stated below. As such, we are terminating our partnership effective immediately.
We wish you the best of luck in the future.
It’s signed by some big shot company lawyer who no doubt spends his days crushing hopes and dreams like its sport. Okay, that’s probably not fair, but neither is sending me this bullshit email without even hearing my side of the story.
I let out a growl of frustration as I grip my phone tightly and drop my arm to my side. I need that sponsorship. Without it I can’t afford…well, anything. The little I have stowed away from prize money and other endorsements won’t last three months here in Moonshot. The gym fees alone are more than that. And if I manage to do the impossible and get Coach Rodier to train me, I have no idea how I’m going to pay for it. Back in Colorado, I did some workshops and seminars on the side to make extra money and I coached at a kids’ gym before that. I could look for a job like that here. Though the whole point of coming to Moonshot was to focus solely on my training.
I’m not sure how long I stand there, silently fuming with my thoughts spiraling, before a black Range Rover pulls into the driveway to my left. I pocket my phone and then open the back driver’s side door to grab my backpack and the final box. It’s all I brought with me to Montana. Mostly it’s shoes.
As I turn to take my things into the house, the neighbor from next door has parked and walks my way. I’m not really in the mood to chitchat, but I force a smile and glance up.
I’m not sure who or what I expected, but this man wasn’t it. He’s tall with dark hair, wearing red athletic shorts and a white T-shirt. Judging by his expensive, shiny vehicle and the large home he’s parked in front of he clearly has money. Still, he can’t be much older than I am.
“Hi.” His smile is wide and downright dazzling. My stomach flutters low in my belly before I’ve even finished cataloging his features. Dark eyes framed by long inky black lashes, dark hair that’s thick and wavy and a little longer on top. But it’s his mouth that I find myself fixating on. His bottom lip is fuller than the top and his teeth are strikingly white and straight. Almost too perfect but somehow it works on him. I think it’s the way his lips pull slightly higher on one side. It keeps him from looking like a cardboard cutout. That and the threadbare T-shirt that looks like it’s been worn and washed about a million times. I can barely make out the letters that form Wolves Hockey.
“Are you looking after the house for Martha while she’s gone?” he asks before I’ve managed to greet him back.
“Hi,” I say, then shake my head. “Not exactly. I’m renting the place for a few months.”
“Oh.” A crease forms between his brows. “I didn’t realize she was going to be gone that long.”
