Page 125 of Hard Pass

“How did you leave it with him?”

“I’m suspended effective immediately.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Out of a job. Unable to finish what I started.”

“I’m sorry,” he says evenly as he steps forward in an attempt to give me a hug that I shrug out of instantly.

That’s the last thing I want right now.

“No. Just . . .” How was it we were sitting on my couch forty-eight hours ago, talking, enjoying each other’s company in all ways, and now it’s all fucked up? “I can’t.”

“We knew this could happen.”

“Yes,” I snap. Wrong fucking thing to say. “That’s why I tried to stop it.”

His eyes lock on mine. “Did you though?”

Fuck, that stings.

“So you’re saying this is on me?” I ask, needing an argument so I stop blaming myself when I know I’m at fault.

“It’s not on anyone,” he says. “Dublin—”

“I thought I could manage it,” I admit, voice unraveling at the edges. “I thought I could keep it separate. That I could still do my job and . . . God, I was so wrong.”

The admission hangs there, fragile and exposed. He watches me like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“It is what it is. We just need to mitigate the fallout,” he says like the voice of fucking reason.

“Mitigate the fallout?” I screech. “Like what? The fact that I just destroyed my career?”

“You didn’t destroy anything. You’re suspended. It’s temporary. Your boss knows your worth. It’ll blow over and—”

“No, it won’t,” I shout, feet needing to move again. “Why aren’t you more upset? Why aren’t you furious that now your name can’t be cleared because my word and therefore my conclusion means nothing?”

“What will my anger fix?”

“Right. I forgot. You’re you,” I say, my voice rising. “You throw a ball well. You win games. You get paid millions to do it. You could do the most heinous thing imaginable, and it wouldn’t matter because so long as you keep racking up Ws in the win column, a team will find you valuable. You’ll survive this just fine.”

“That’s not fair—”

“It is.” I throw my arms out, my chest heaving like I can’t catch air fast enough. “That is how this works. I live on the opposite side of that, Cole. My name is everything. My credibility is everything. I don’t get a second chance simply because I’m good at my job.”

He doesn’t respond. He just looks at me with concern in his eyes and an understanding that while he can charm his way out of this by playing a great game, I don’t get that same opportunity.

“And now?” I laugh. “Now I’m the investigator who slept with her subject. That’s it. That’s the headline. That’s what people will remember when they hear my name.”

“Your body of work will speak for itself in the end.”

I shake my head. “Appreciate the vote of confidence, but you’ll get an atta boy from the guys while I lose my career because of this. Because of you.”

The undeserving words hang between us. Heavy. Irreversible. Probably extreme but in the moment, that’s how I feel. For a second I think he’s going to push back and argue. He doesn’t. He just stands there, looking at me like he’s trying to decide what hurts more—what I said or the fact that part of it is true.

His Adam’s apple bobs. “You don’t get to put this all on me,” he says finally, his voice quieter, but no less steady. “We both walked into this.”

“I didn’t ask you to come to my house,” I shoot back, even though the fight is already starting to drain out of me.

“You didn’t tell me to leave either, and I gave you every opportunity to.”

His words are harsh but true.