“Anytime. But I’m not the one you should be chatting with.”
“I know.”
“Good. Love you.”
Addie waves exaggeratedly as I walk away, and I smile while screaming inside. I don’t want to talk to Addie before talking to Sal, only I have to give her something. I just have to figure out what.
After waving back, I step into the hall and almost bump into Easton coming back inside.
“Sorry.” I smile awkwardly while he grunts and moves out of my way, mumbling a sorry in return.
Silence falls between us, and it’s so uncomfortable I have to fill it. “I’m heading home. Did you speak to Phil?”
“I did.”
“Good. I’ll see you later.”
I force another smile, and once again, Easton doesn’t return it. Not that he’s a big smiler, but still… It’s obvious from his folded arms and blank stare that he’s not happy about being here with me. And I’m not in the headspace to buy into his mood.
I move to step around him until he holds a hand out to stop me.
“We need to talk about what happened.” Easton’s eyes flash to Mom’s room, and I release a soft sigh. I’m sure he’s right. But like Mom’s constantly telling us, there’s nothing we can do. Nothing any of us can do.
“There’s not much to say. It’s not going to change anything. Nothing either of us say is going to make a difference.”
Addie calls out to Easton before he has the chance to respond, so I shrug and gesture for him to go inside, then walk away.
I’m happy Mom’s okay. I just wish there was more we could do to stop this from happening again.
Should I have talked to Easton about it? Probably.
Can I handle dealing with him right now, knowing that he’s only speaking to me because Mom’s in the hospital? No.
I’ll talk to him about it another day.
For now, I need to talk to Sal.
But first, I need to decide what the hell I’m going to say.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
SALVATORE
The boardroom boasts a similar view to my office, and I find myself staring out the window, lost in my head. The board members—the ones I rallied together after taking ownership of the team—are discussing the legal ramification of us suing the former owner over the release of his book. It’s an important discussion that I should be paying attention to, and yet, I’m acting like a brat that inherited a business while knowing nothing about business in general, letting them handle the tough decisions.
“Does that sound like a good compromise, Sal?”
Fuck if I know.“As long as it keeps the team out of the spotlight, I’m happy.”
Bryan, two-time Super Bowl champion for the Storm—who played when I was a kid—eyes me suspiciously. I recruited him for the board after hearing how much he’s supported the team over the years. At first, I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t already on the board since he was a brilliant businessman in his own right before he retired. But after looking into the team’s finances, I knew. Gregory didn’t want brilliant businessmen orwomen on his board. He wanted yes people, or those that didn’t look too closely at the bullshit he was pulling behind their backs.
“Sorry, Bryan. As you know, my daughter got married yesterday, and her husband’s mother collapsed during the reception. I’ve been a little preoccupied, but I’m with you.”
Megan, one of my board members from New York, gasps from the video screen, her hand flying to her face. “I’m so sorry, Sal. Is she okay?”
“She’s in the hospital, but she’s doing well.” Guilt eats away at me. I’m worried about Rochelle; that’s not a lie. Only, it’s Keeley that has me distracted.
I messaged her last night to make sure she got home safe—despite the fact that I may have had Jeffrey follow her so I could see it for myself—and her reply was curt.
