Reese grabs my arm to stop me, standing from her seat on the ledge as she does. “Emmett, you cannot go after him. It’s bad. What he’s threatening isbad. Do not give him any reason to follow through.”
A bit more of her natural fire shines through, and I realize now, she’s been trying to disassociate herself from whatever the hell happened in her office this morning.
I reach up to cup her face, wanting to touch her. Wanting to comfort her. But I drop my hand again before I can, knowing the last thing she’d want right now is to give someone else the opportunity to see us together. “What does he want?”
She exhales a sharp breath, bracing herself. “He wants me to make him President of Baseball Operations.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”
“It’s not that simple, Em.”
“It is that simple! That isyourposition. Something you’ve worked your entire life for. Someone else has already tried to take it from you. I’m not letting fucking Scott steal it from you over some pictures.”
“You’renot letting him do anything! This ismydecision.”
That stops me in my tracks, tamping down a bit of my fight. We’re supposed to be in this together, but it sure doesn’t sound like we are.
“You can’t be seriously considering this, Reese.”
She looks up at me, holding her ground, but doesn’t say anything.
Sheisconsidering this.
I shake my head vehemently. “No.”
“I don’t have to explain to you what those pictures will do in the wrong hands.”
I want to argue with her about that, but I know she’s right. Our relationship could so easily get spun to appear to be something it’s not by anyone who wanted to sell that story. By someone who doesn’t like that Reese is in the position she’s in.
“Is that what he’s threatening? To give these to the press?”
“Yes.”
“And the only way to stop him is by giving up your position?”
“Yes.”
“Reese.” There’s resignation in the way I say her name because that’s exactly how I feel right now. Utterly defeated.
This is the last thing I want for her. I’m supposed to protect her, but instead, I was careless. I was too comfortable with the fact we hadn’t gotten caught by the wrong person yet. I promised her she’d be safe in public with me and look what happened. This is my fault and she’s going to lose everything she’s ever worked for, everything she’s ever wanted, because of me.
“I’ll be fine,” she forces out. “There’s going to be an advisory board meeting tomorrow. He wants me to step down then.”
“Tomorrow?”
That gives her no time to prepare. No time to think this through. No time to find a different option.
“Reese.” I have no clue what else to say to her other than, “I’m so sorry. This is my fault.”
She shrugs, trying to act casual, but she’s so clearly heartbroken. “It’s not your fault, Em. And there’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m still glad I was there with you last night. I’m still glad I met you. I don’t regret anything that’s happened.”
I hate everything about the way those words settle into me.
They feel . . .final.
Here I was, coming to tell her how much I love her, and now I can’t. Now I might never be able to. Not when me telling her might cause her to make a decision she thinks is best for me and not for herself.
“Do you want me to come by tonight?” I ask. “We can talk it out. Look at all our options.”
