“Jace is calmer today.”
“You mentioned that yesterday.”
“It remains true today.”
I waited.
Tessa’s expression softened by a fraction, which somehow made her more difficult to look at. “Calm is noticeable when someone has been white-knuckling for weeks.”
“He’s working.”
“He is.”
Another silence sat between us, full of things she was too smart to say in a hallway.
Then she said, “I hope tonight is as honest as it needs to be.”
My mouth went dry.
Before I could answer, she lifted her tablet slightly. “I’ll send the revised media grid.”
“Tessa.”
She stopped.
“Thank you.”
She nodded once, not triumphant, not warm exactly. Just present. “Good luck, Coach.”
The afternoon dragged.
I watched video. I answered calls. I sat through a meeting about sponsorship obligations and heard maybe sixty percent of it. Every time my attention slipped, I brought it back by force. Names. Dates. Systems. Lines. Responsibilities. The old discipline still worked, but it required more effort than it used to.
At four-ten, Olivia texted.
Boarding soon. Long day. Looking forward to being home.
I stared at the words until they stopped looking like language.
Home.
I typed three different replies and deleted all of them.
Finally, I sent: Safe flight. I’ll be there when you get in.
It was true.
Not enough, but true.
Jace passed my office doorway twenty minutes later with Roman beside him. He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow. His hair was damp from the shower, backpack on one shoulder, phone in his hand but screen dark. He looked tired. Stable. Like the day had taken effort and he had managed it anyway.
Roman said something I couldn’t hear.
Jace laughed under his breath, not bright, but real.
I let that be the last thing I took from him before tonight.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, the sky had gone dark over Denver, the kind of winter-dark that made houses look warmer from the outside than they sometimes were within. Olivia’s car wasn’t there yet. No lights burned except the one I’d left over the stove.
