She follows me into my apartment. “You are,” she announces with authority. “Like you said, with a two-week suspension, we only lose you for four games. With a month suspension, we lose you for nine. That’s twenty percent of our season. You’re too important to this team to lose you for so long. Think of it as a little rest and recovery time. I found you a nice facility in Maine. It’s beautiful up there in the summer. Unplug. Take some time to chill out and recharge.”
I’m quiet. I don’t want to do this, but I feel like I have no other choice but to acquiesce.
She cracks a small smile. “You’re going to like what I have to say next.”
“I doubt it,” I mumble, pouting like a spoiled child with my arms crossed.
Her smile widens. “Have you been on social media this morning?”
I shake my head. “No, I turned off my phone last night. It was blowing up, and I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”
She holds up her phone. “You should check your phone. You’re being hailed a hero. The real-life Black Widow is what they’re calling you. My phone is ringing off the hook with endorsement offers for you.” She points her finger at me. “Let me tell you what’s going to happen. You’re going to head to Maine for two weeks and decompress. They’ll have you talk to therapists, which you will do withoutanyproblem.” Her tonesharpens for that bit. “They’ll have you connect with animals, nature, and some other Kumbaya shit like that, but you’ll do so with a smile because they’ll be sending a report to the league when your time there comes to an end to confirm your utmost cooperation. After that, you’re going to come back home and find yourself a bigger agent to represent you. Trust me, you’re going to need it. I advise striking while the iron is hot.”
I’m processing all the information she has given me. This morning is going exactly the opposite of how I expected it to. When I cried myself to sleep last night, it was to images of me being forced to clean out my locker today, not this. I even let my mind drift to having to ask my father for money, which I’ve refused to do since I left for college.
She’s right. I need to pay the piper for my actions and then pick myself up like I always have. If there are new opportunities, I need to seize them. What other choice do I have? This woman hasn’t led me astray yet.
I swallow. “Okay. I’ll do whatever you tell me to.” My eyes meet hers. “Thanks for having my back, Reagan. Thank you for everything.”
She smiles again. “My pleasure. By the way, I had six calls this morning from other teams in the league wanting to trade for you. Do you still want out of Philly?”
My brother’s face pops right into my mind, followed shortly thereafter by my amazing group of friends. Even Daylen’s face unexpectedly makes a brief appearance. I’m realizing that in just a year, I feel more at home here than I ever have anywhere else.
I shake my head. “No. I want to stay.”
She nods. “Good, because I already told them no. We’re not letting you leave us. Be at the small airstrip in two hours. I’ll have my private jet take you up to Maine so the press doesn’t bother you just yet.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Good.” She walks toward my door, and I follow her. “This is going to work out. Stop worrying and stay the course. And let’sretire the brass knuckles for a bit. At least for the rest of this season.”
I playfully salute her. “Yes, Captain.”
She grins as she opens the door. “You’re much more amiable than you used to be. I sort of miss your snarkiness. It was more of a challenge for me.”
I let out a laugh. “I promise to be a bigger bitch moving forward.”
“Perfect.”
As she steps out into the hallway, Daylen is exiting the elevator, walking toward my apartment. His worried eyes meet mine.
Reagan looks at him and then back at me before walking toward the elevator and mumbling, “I swear to god, every athlete in this town is fucking other athletes in this town. There must be something in the water.”
She steps onto the elevator as Daylen stops in front of my door. “What are you doing here?” I ask with a heavy amount of edge in my tone.
His brows crease. “I was worried about you. I called and texted a million times.”
I turn and walk into my apartment with him hot on my heels. “I can’t talk right now. I need to pack.”
“Where are you going?”
“Rehab. My suspension will only be two weeks if I agree to go to rehab.”
“Rehab? For what?” he asks in a shocked tone.
“For my anger issues, what else?”
I walk into my bedroom and remove a suitcase from the top shelf in my closet, opening it on my bed.
