We regret to inform you…
Unfortunately, our giving budget has closed for the quarter…
We wish you the best of luck in future partnerships.
I’d lost count of how many times I’d read those same sentences tonight. I rubbed my temples, staring at the blinking cursor in the draft of my next desperate ask.
And then—ding.
A new message.
From: Beckett Mason
Subject: “Leads”
I hesitated before opening it, bracing for some sarcastic remark about foundation bureaucracy or another meme he got from Adam. Instead, the email was short. Clean. Direct.
Found a few people who might be worth talking to.
— Ironhouse Apparel: mid-tier training brand. Looking to expand outreach.
— CoreFuel: sponsors youth leagues in the Midwest.
— Wren Insurance: smaller, local. Family-owned.
Don’t thank me until they say yes.
— B.
I just stared at the screen, rereading it twice, then three times.
Somehow, he’d gone out of his way after practice—or between whatever his life looked like off the field—and found actual, tangible leads. Not random guesses, but names that made sense. Companies with missions that aligned.
My chest tightened, something warm pushing against the exhaustion that had settled there all day.
He didn’t have to do that.
He wasn’t doing it for attention or credit. He hadn’t even signed his full name. Just B.
I could practically hear his voice. Don’t make it weird.
I smiled. Slow, unguarded. The kind of smile that felt like a breath after hours of drowning quietly.
He was chaos. He was impossible. But maybe, just maybe, he was exactly what I needed right now.
I leaned back in my chair, letting my eyes drift over the dimly lit office. The banner for the gala hung crooked on one wall, glitter catching the faint glow from the laptop. The foundation’s logo shimmered faintly above the door—Building Futures Through Sports.
I traced the edge of my coffee cup with my finger, Beckett’s email still open in front of me.
“Tell me what you need,” I whispered to myself.
It was such a simple phrase.
No expectations. No negotiations. No hidden strings.
No one had said those words to me in years—not like that. Not as a promise.
I closed the laptop; the screen going dark. The reflection of the foundation’s logo lingered for a moment before fading.
