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“Every play caller does. Even Quinn. We’ll just pull an audible or make a sideline correction.”

“You make it sound so easy,” I say on a wistful sigh. History has taught me that nothing in life is easy.

“I am easy, baby,” he says, giving me a cheeky grin and a wink.

“Oh yeah?” I retort with a small smirk. “If that’s the case, I’m game as long as we can take it one play at a time.”

“Whatever you need. As long as you are my brave girl.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Scarlett

Ituck in the last corner of the white linens, then turn to face the woman beside me as she fluffs the remaining pillow.

My eyes take in the small, plain room. There are two sets of black metal bunk beds against each wall, with a small nightstand in between a lamp and a charging station. The walls are painted in a soft blue with a simple matching area rug to cover the worn hardwood planks.

“I think that’s the last one,” my coworker, Claire, says as she runs a finger through her short, gray strands.

She’s worked at the shelter since we opened our doors, her being my first hire, and I haven’t regretted it a day since. She was a no-brainer as a licensed therapist with over twenty years of experience working with women of domestic violence, sexual assault, and abuse.

“Thank you for helping me get this ready,” I say as I rub my hands down the upper thighs, the ribs on my jeans brushing against my palms. It’s the last room to prepare at the shelter for our newest arrival in a few short hours.

“Anytime, dear.” Her deep brown eyes take me in as we stand in this tight room together. “You missed Shauna today. She stopped in earlier to tell us she got that promotion from the hospital.”

I perk up. “Wow, really! She’s been there for less than a year.” My eyes turn to the wooden floors. “That’s amazing,” I say more to myself than her.

“Yeah. We’ve gotten so many positive updates lately.”

“I can’t wait to tell Sebastian! They won their road game last night and got back late, but I’ll tell him soon.”

“You should,” she says with a curt nod, then bends down and sits on the edge of the white bed. She taps the bed with her hand, and I acknowledge the social cue and crouch down beside her.

“You and your brother have been a wonderful addition to the Boston community, and this foundation has made quite a difference. You should be so proud.”

“We are,” I say with a small smile.

“You,” she adds an extra emphasis, “should be so proud.” Her eyes flick up and down. “You have come such a long way.”

“You think?” I ask with puzzlement in my voice. I’ve known Claire for five years and in some ways she has become a mother figure to me. Not that I would replace my own mother, but it’s nice to have a listening ear of someone older and wiser who is only a few steps away.

She bobs her head several times. “Yes. This is such a hard job, and we encounter a lot of difficult situations, and you take everything in stride. It’s sometimes hard not to be bitter, especially when we see how vicious and malicious another human being can be.

“It can be tough to shake that off at the end of the day, because there is so much good in the world too. You lift up every single woman that enters through these doors. You cheer them on every step of the way.”

My throat tightens as she speaks.

“And that’s important,” she continues. “But sometimes, we want to cheer for you too, just the way you cheer on everyone else in your life. But we can’t do that if you never play the game.”

Tears threaten from the backs of my eyes.

“Sometimes sitting on the sidelines is safer, but it’s a lot less fun,” she says with a curt nod.

“What if I get hurt again?” The words come out just above a whisper. Words that have been on my mind a lot lately.

“It’s part of the game, but you adjust. Make changes. Play smarter. Use your experience to your advantage. I don’t think you realize how bright you are. Take it one game at a time.”

Take it one game at a time.