Page 35 of Hard Pass

I lack an answer I can actually verbalize. Instead, I deflect. “She’ll be here any minute to help you navigate the current climate.”

“Media training?” He emits a disbelieving laugh. “I already did that shit when I came into the league.”

“Not this kind you didn’t. You’ve never had to manage a crisis.”

His jaw flexes and fury flashes in his eyes. “You mean the crisis you created?”

I don’t respond because I can only assume what’s coming next. And he doesn’t disappoint.

“Spare me the bullshit company line you’re about to spew at me.” He takes a step closer. “You’re the one who came here, who asked questions, and suddenly I’m the headline. But yeah, sure, ‘media training’ will fix it.”

His words, sharp and unfiltered, hang between us. The atmosphere of the room shifts with them.

I don’t flinch, don’t react, but I do feel the weight of what he’s saying.

“It wasn’t me,” I say again, quieter this time.

He snorts. “Then how did it get out?”

“I’ve asked myself the same question a dozen times since I saw the stories last night.” I shift my feet. “Your guess is as good as mine. It could be as simple as a company employee who mentioned something to a friend and that friend told another friend who posted it. A simple game of telephone is all it takes.”

“If that’s the case, then you’re the one who picked up the phone and dialed in the first place.” His expression shifts. His lips purse. “How many times has this happened to you before on a case?”

Shit. This one’s going to hurt. “Never.”

“Ah. Convenient.”

“I’m not your enemy,” I say evenly and his eyes hold mine for a second longer than they have before. They’re searching, like he’s trying to place something he can’t quite reach. Does he remember? My breath stills for just a second but then it’s gone. Whatever flicker I thought I saw, disappears behind that same wall of frustration.

And just like that he’s just a stranger again. Just a case I need to resolve.

“If you didn’t do what’s been flagged, then I’m here to absolve you,” I say. “Either way, I’m not here to hang you out to dry.”

He’s staring again. It’s like he’s not just looking at what I’m saying but really hearing me. And for the first time since this all started, the anger doesn’t disappear, but it fractures, letting another emotion slip through—uncertainty.

Cole exhales, dragging a hand through his hair again, but this time the movement feels less like anger and more like a recalibration.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “We’ll see about that.”

“I don’t have to convince you otherwise, Cole. I have a job to do and you liking me isn’t part of my job.”

He nods and movement catches his attention behind me through the glass. I follow his glance to where the team’s media consultant is standing, laptop in her arms, talking to another staff member.

“I don’t need someone teaching me how to talk,” he says.

“Agreed. But you do need someone teaching you what not to say.”

His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to process the difference. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

“That makes two of us.”

“You always this bossy?”

I tilt my head. “Are you always this combative?”

His mouth almost curves—almost—like he remembers something he shouldn’t.

The room goes still as the space between us shrinks. The air tightens. The atmosphere feels more focused.