“Still shit.” Another pause. “Less chest.”
Roman made a thoughtful sound. “Poetic.”
“Don’t tell anyone. Ruins my brand.”
“You sleep?”
“Some.”
“Eat?”
“Declan made me breakfast.”
Every muscle in my body locked.
Then Jace corrected smoothly, too smoothly. “Coach made everyone do nutrition check-ins last week. Got stuck in my head. I ate breakfast, is what I mean.”
Roman didn’t answer right away.
My grip on the folder in my hand tightened.
Finally Roman said, “Careful with your words today.”
Jace’s reply was quieter. “Yeah. I know.”
No accusation. No reveal. Just Roman, hearing too much because he cared enough to listen properly.
I walked away before I heard anything else.
At noon, Tessa found me outside the media room.
She had her tablet in one hand and a coffee in the other, which meant she was either busy or armed. Possibly both.
“Coach,” she said.
“Tessa.”
“Olivia’s flight is still on schedule. Lands seven-forty. I checked because the alumni dinner next week requires your spouse info finalized and she emailed me about dietary restrictions.”
There it was. Delivered in the same tone she used for broadcast windows and credential lists.
“Thank you,” I said.
Tessa studied me over the rim of her cup. “She said she’ll come straight from the airport?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need me to move your morning media availability tomorrow?”
I should have asked why she was offering. I didn’t. Tessa rarely gave help without making it look administrative.
“No,” I said. “Keep it.”
“All right.”
She didn’t leave.
I looked at her. “Anything else?”
