He coughs.“You’re a leader.”
Leader.
What a fucking joke.
Leadership is what they say when they want you to carry a franchise on your back while they hand you a knife.
“When?”I ask.
“Paperwork’s already in motion.You’ll get official confirmation within the hour.”
Meaning it’s already done.
Meaning the next twenty-four hours belong to everyone but me.It’s obvious that I was never going to matter in this decision.They’d already signed the dotted line.Already printed my name on a new jersey.
I can taste it—like blood in the back of my throat.Like copper and endings.
“That’s it, then,” I say.
“It’s not personal.”
Please, it always is.That phrase is code for “shut up and take it.”I end the call before he can say goodbye.
The silence in the hallway wraps around me.I stay there for a long moment, phone still pressed to my ear, like maybe if I stand still long enough, I’ll find a version of myself who doesn’t want to punch something or scream into the void.
But beneath the numbness, something else stirs.
There’s a savage, raw awareness that maybe—just maybe—this is my opening.Portland isn’t just a trade.
It’s maybe a second fucking chance.
It’s her.
She’s heading to Juniper Ridge and we’ll be close.I’ll be there for her while she deals with her father’s illness, the camp, and whatever she needs me for.This is a good opportunity to keep her away from Alberto Montoya Navarro Wade who’s on the east coast.Far enough that I don’t have to worry about anything.
I blow out a breath and call the only person in my world who can make plans happen at the speed my anxiety requires.
“Harvey,” I say the moment he answers.
“Callaway,” my assistant replies, voice clipped and professional.“I was just about to?—”
“I got traded,” I cut in.
Silence.
Not shock.Harvey doesn’t do shock.He does calculations.
“I see.So was it Portland?”he asks, as if he already knows.
“Yeah.”
“You okay?”
That question is offensive.Not because it’s wrong.Because it implies I have the option to be anything other than what I am: furious, restless, and holding myself together out of spite.
“No,” I say honestly.“But I don’t have time to spiral.I need you to do something.”
“Name it.”
