Chapter 4: The Meeting
1790 Words
I didn't call Derek's mother back.
Instead, I stared at the message until my coffee went cold a second time, then set the phone face down and pushed it away like distance might make the words disappear.
"What now?" Priya asked, watching my face.
"His mom wants me to know there's 'more to the story.'" I let out a humorless laugh. "As if there's a version of this where he wasn't kissing Bianca against a wall."
"There isn't," Priya said flatly. "Delete it. Block her if you have to."
I didn't block her. I just didn't answer. Some habits, like being polite to people who'd been kind to me for years, took longer to break than the relationship itself had.
*****
Two days later, I met with the Renegades' head coach.
Sawyer wasn't in the room, which I appreciated more than I expected to. This wasn't a favor being called in by a player. This was Coach Whitfield across a desk, reading glasses low on his nose, sliding a folder toward me like he did this every day.
"Sawyer says you've got good hands and a better eye," Whitfield said. "Says you caught Petrov's shoulder before anyone else noticed he was favoring it."
"I did," I confirmed, keeping my voice steady even though my palms were damp.
"Your résumé backs that up. Certifications are solid. References check out." He studied me over his glasses. "I'll be honest with you. Half the reason I'm considering this is the timing looks messy. Rival team, rival captain, all this business online."
My face went hot. "I understand if that's a concern."
"It's not a concern. It's a fact I'm naming so we don't pretend it isn't there." He leaned back. "What I care about is whether you can do the job. Everything else is noise. Can you do the job?"
"Yes," I said, and for the first time in days, I meant something completely, without doubt attached to it.
"Good. You start Monday. Full season contract, pending physical review of your certifications, which I don't expect to be a problem."
I sat there for a second, stunned by how simple it had been. No dramatics, no lecture about optics, no mention of Sawyer beyond the initial recommendation.
"That's it?" I asked.
Whitfield almost smiled. "You were expecting a harder sell?"
"I was expecting judgment."
"I don't have time for other people's business, Ms. Roberts. I have time for good trainers." He stood, extending a hand. "Welcome to the Renegades."
I shook it, my mind already racing through everything this meant. A new team. A new city, technically, since the Renegades were based in Boston. A clean break from a life that had stopped feeling like mine the second I saw Bianca's fingers in Derek's hair.
I signed my legal name on the contract. ‘Nora Roberts.’ Not Vance. I'd never officially taken his name, something I was grateful for now in a way I hadn't expected to be.
*****
Sawyer was waiting in the hallway when I came out, leaning against the wall in workout clothes, clearly having showered post-practice.
"Well?" he asked.
"I start Monday."
Something shifted across his face, relief mixed with something warmer he didn't bother hiding. "Congratulations. You earned it."
"You recommended me."
"I gave your name. Whitfield doesn't hire people because I ask nicely. He hired you because you're good." He fell into step beside me as we walked toward the exit. "How does it feel?"
I thought about it honestly before answering. "Terrifying. Exciting. Like I jumped off something without checking how far down the ground was."
"That's usually how the good decisions feel." He held the door for me as we stepped into the parking lot. "The safe ones never feel like anything at all."
We stood there for a moment, the late afternoon sun cutting low across the lot, neither of us quite ready to end the conversation.
"Derek's team plays us in three weeks," I said. "First game since everything happened."
Sawyer's jaw tightened slightly. "I know the schedule."
"I'll be on your bench. In his division. Every reporter in the building will be watching to see how I react."
"Then we make sure you have nothing to react to except the game." His voice was steady, certain, the same tone he'd used the night everything fell apart. "You're not walking into that building alone, Nora. Not this time."
Something about the way he said it, low and sure, made my chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with anxiety.
"Why do you keep doing that?" I asked.
"Doing what?"
"Showing up. Saying the right thing. Making it sound easy when none of this is easy."
He considered the question longer than I expected, like he wanted to get the answer right instead of just saying something smooth.
"Because I spent an entire season watching you shrink yourself around him," Sawyer said finally. "Watching you laugh a little quieter when he was in the room, agree a little faster, apologize for things that weren't your fault. I told myself it wasn't my business. But it was killing me to watch."
I stared at him, throat tight. "You never said anything."
"You were with someone. I don't do that." His eyes held mine, steady and unflinching. "But he's not in the picture anymore. And I'm done pretending I don't notice you."
The parking lot felt very quiet all of a sudden, just the two of us and the low hum of traffic somewhere beyond the fence.
"I just got out of something that broke me a little," I admitted. "I don't know if I'm ready to be noticed by anyone yet."
"I'm not asking you to be ready." Sawyer took a small step closer, not crowding me, just closing the distance enough to make the moment feel deliberate. "I'm asking you to let me be around while you figure it out. That's all. No pressure, no deadline."
I should have said something cautious. Something about needing space, needing time, needing to not fall into the arms of the first person who was kind to me after Derek.
Instead, I found myself nodding. "Okay."
His mouth curved, not quite a full smile, but close enough to make my heart do something unfamiliar again.
"Okay," he echoed.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down, expecting Priya checking in on how the meeting went.
It was a text from an unknown number, followed immediately by three more, each one hitting harder than the last.
‘This is Bianca. We should talk. There's something about that night you don't know, and you deserve to hear it before you get any deeper with Kane.’
- Writer
