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I shrug, suddenly unsure why hearing it out loud makes my chest feel tighter than standing behind the podium ever did. “You hired the wrong quarterback if you wanted polished today.”
“No.” His answer comes easily, without a second’s hesitation. “I hired the one I wanted.”
I open my mouth, then close it again. People usually talk about my arm, my résumé, or the games they think I can win for them.
“That’s my cue.” Rachel checks the time on her phone and smiles. “I have a call in a few minutes. Enjoy your weekend, Jubal.”
“Thanks, Rachel.”
She disappears down the opposite hallway while Coach Quinn and I continue toward the lobby.
“You need anything before you head out?”
I start to tell him I’m fine but stop myself. That’s become my go-to answer over the years, the easiest way to end a conversation before someone decides helping me is more trouble than it’s worth.
“Groceries,” I admit, a laugh slipping out with the confession. “Turns out, an empty refrigerator is still an empty refrigerator.”
“Denise keeps a list of places nearby because she’s convinced none of you know how to feed yourselves.”
“She’s probably right.”
“She usually is.” He reaches the front door and pulls one open. “Take the weekend, Jubal. Monday will be here soon enough.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it free as I step through the door.
Tuck
You free for lunch tomorrow?
The message lingers on the screen while my thumb hovers over the keyboard. Riley was always going to reach out eventually. I just hadn’t expected it to be less than twenty-four hours after I landed in Charlotte.
Yeah. Send me the place.
Another message appears before I can put the phone away.
Tuck
Try not to get lost.
I shake my head, smiling as I slide the phone back into my pocket.
Coach Quinn follows me onto the sidewalk but turns toward the employee lot instead of the visitor spaces where I left my rental. “See you Monday.”
“See you Monday, Coach.”
He lifts one hand without looking back as I cross the parking lot. My fingers slip beneath the collar of my shirt, finding the chain without thinking. The ring turns once beneath my thumb, carrying me back to a woman whose name I still don’t know.
Yesterday, it felt like the only thing I’d managed to bring with me from Houston.
Today… I’m not so sure.
Chapter Ten
Jubal
On Monday morning, Harold has my badge waiting before I reach the security desk. He lifts it between two fingers as I come through the glass doors. “Figured I’d save you from digging through every pocket while pretending you knew exactly where you put it.”
My hand stops halfway to the zipper of my backpack. “I knew where it was.”
