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“Right,” I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “So…”

“Susan isn’t coming back,” Brooke cuts in smoothly, bracing her hands on my desk to lean forward and capture my attention. “We need a permanent doctor. Dr. Bellows is the obvious choice, but I need to know what this is about.” She taps a finger against the tabloid images. “What’s going on?”

I inhale deeply, leaning back in the chair to get away from the pictures and the painful memories they hold. “Nothing is going on. We’ve had a few… altercations… but you know how the media can spin an image to fit their agenda.”

Brady takes a step forward, his expression stoic. “It’s not against the rules, per se, Graham, but we need to know to get ahead of any HR problems.”

“It ended before it even started,” I mutter bitterly. “That’s all you need to know.”

Brooke nods, gathering up the magazine and tucking it under her arm. Her eyes narrow and I can feel her glare eating away at my resolve, but what’s there to tell? It truly had ended before we even started.

“Are you talking with Bodhi today?” Brady asks, watching me check the clock again.

“Yes. I have a call scheduled for now.” I pull my laptop out and open the webpage. “Is that everything?” I ask without looking up.

Brooke purses her lips, still glaring at me. “That’s everything right now.”

“Tell Bodhi I said to make a decision,” Brady calls as he opens the door. “Oh! Dr. Bellows, I’m sorry.”

Just the sound of her name makes my body tighten.

My eyes shoot up and collide with hers and I can see the shimmer of tears on her lashes. I stand, unsure who to address first. “Did you need me?” I ask, hating how hopeful I sound.

“It can wait,” she responds and steps to the side to let Brady and Brooke pass.

Brooke tosses me a hard look over her shoulder before she follows Brady out of the office.

Ana shifts on her feet, lingering in the doorway with a deep frown. How long had she been outside the door? Shit. Had she heard the conversation with Brooke? If she had heard it, there was no way she wouldn’t take it the wrong way. “Is everything okay?” I ask cautiously, taking a step around my desk.

She stiffens and takes a step back, her face morphing into a mask of indifference. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. Take your meeting with Bodhi.” She turns on her heels and walks away.

Fuck.

She heard.

I drop back down into my chair with a groan, logging into the meeting that I’m now late for.

Bodhi’s face appears on the screen, his long hair twisted into a bun on top of his head. He’s wearing a crisp white dress shirt and a crimson red tie. “Hello, Mr. Callahan!” He smiles broadly, flashing his white teeth and dimples.

“Donovan,” I greet him cooly. “I’m hoping you have some good news for me. Mr. Manson wanted me to remind you that the clock is ticking.”

He smirks, his cheeks turning slightly pink at the call-out. “I know. I know,” he responds, pulling on the collar of his shirt. “It’s a big decision and I needed time to weigh all my options, but I think I’ve made my final decision.”

I steeple my fingers in front of my lips to hide my smirk. He doesn’t have a good poker face and I know where this conversation is going. Finally, something is going right. “Well, are you going to disclose this decision or are you going to keep me waiting?”

“No, Sir,” he chuckles slightly. “I would be honored to wear a Tigers jersey and play for your team.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I drop my hands and smile at the young man on the screen. “I’ll have Brady start getting a contract together. We’ll be in touch. Oh and Bodhi, Don’t bring a lot of old emotions with you to the city. This is a fresh start. Don’t screw it up.”

Bodhi’s shoulders tense and his smile falters, but he composes himself moments later. “I don’t plan on it, Sir.”

“Good. See you soon.”

I walk into the crowded bar, eyes searching for Brady and Nicholas and finding them at a pool table in the back corner. Brady waves me over before setting up for his next move. “Brady. Nick.” I greet them with a nod.

“How did the call with Donovan go?” Nick asks, watching Brady sink a striped ball into the corner pocket with a load CRACK!

I gesture for the bartender to bring us three beers. “He’s in,” I say without preamble. “We just need a signed contract and get him here.”