Page 7 of Hard to Lose

“This letter makes no sense. Why would his dream to play be over if he had genuine interest from clubs and agents?” I ask, hating that every time I read the letter, I’m overcome with a sadness I can’t shake.

Giving up a dream is like saying you’ve run out of hope.

“I don’t know, honey. The only other comment I had in my notes was about Ryan’s father. I wrote ‘gatekeeper’ beside his name. In fact, I don’t have any records of ever talking to Ryan himself. Something was weird with the whole setup from my vague memory. The dad said Ryan wasn’t good enough, said he was a troublemaker. Just shit you don’t say about your kid who’s trying to win over an agent.”

“Ugh.” I reread the letter again. I just recently learned of your interest in me. . . “You think his dad never told him, don’t you?” I ask, knowing my father’s expressions well enough to read his thoughts.

“At the time I couldn’t put my finger on it, but now? Now that I’ve read that letter . . . I don’t think he did.”

“Who would do that to a kid? Steal their dream?” I ask, my heart hurting for Ryan.

“People do a lot of shitty things that make no sense,” he muses.

“See? That’s why I need to track him down and tell him the truth. Tell him that you were interested.”

“In the name of good PR?” He lifts his brows, and I hate that I feel like I’m flatfooted in answering.

Because yes, it’s in the name of good press for KSM . . . but it’s also because I’m inexplicably drawn to this letter, and I feel more than ridiculous admitting that. “Anything for the company, Dad,” I finally say and know he can see right through me.

“There are a million things that could go wrong with this scenario, Chase,” my dad warns, ever the cautious one.

“Like?”

“Like he was injured or God forbid, he died in combat.” He grimaces at the thought. “Like he’s angry at you for hunting him down over a dream that came and went that he’s no longer interested in. Like he resents you for using him for your own benefit.”

“He wouldn’t know I was using him for our benefit.”

“Of course, he wouldn’t, but you know what they say about best-laid plans . . .”

“Dad.” The word is a frustrated sigh.

“I’m just trying to cover all the angles.”

“Clearly.” I snort and try a different one. “If you walked away from something you truly loved, wouldn’t at some point you want to know that others thought you were good too? Sure, it might be too late to fulfill the dream, but wouldn’t you still want to know?”

He nods, his lips pursed. “I suppose. It would sting at first, but then there would be pride.”

“Exactly,” I say with a resolute nod. “By finding him, I’ll be helping him and us.” I clap my hands together. “Problem solved.”

We stare at each other for a beat. “So you’re going to go traipsing off to find this Camden guy in the name of publicity for KSM? Is that what you’re telling me?” His smile is soft, knowing, before I say a word about my intentions.

He knows me too well.

“I need a break, some space from all the love and baby talk going on around here.” It doesn’t help that we’re nearing the anniversary of my mother’s death. I always get antsy this time of year, but for some reason, the letter has just added to it.

“Okay.” He draws the word out.

“I know you probably don’t agree with me, and I can take my vacation time if need be, but I want to pursue this. I want to find Ryan Camden and see for myself what became of him. See how maybe I can use the opportunity for KSM.” And I pray that I don’t find a headstone in a cemetery instead of a living, breathing man.

He simply stares at me when he could say so many things—all of which would be some form of you’re crazy and this is so not like you, but he doesn’t. He must see that I need this somehow.

Some freedom from the everyday role I fulfill in this office. The i-dotter, t-crosser, and stickler on rules.

“I’ll continue to do my work, of course, as well as finding the right people to help give KSM a stronger visual presence. I won’t drop any balls, nor will I—”

“You don’t have to ask for permission, Chase. I know your work ethic. I trust you and hope that you’ll get what you need out of this.”

“Who said I needed anything?” I ask, but know that I do.