“Addison,” he finally says, “why didn’t you tell me this when we brought him on?”
I stare at my untouched cup of tea.
“I wanted to be seen as a professional, not as the girl with baggage. I didn’t want someone to think I needed protecting. And I hated the idea of the players, the staff, and even you, seeing me as fragile.”
“I don’t see you as fragile, Addison,” Alan says, leaning forward slightly. “I hate him too.”
My eyes shoot up.
“What?”
He’s smiling at me. “I’ve been biting my tongue for months. He’s arrogant. He’s so self-important he thinks we all work for him.” Alan exhales through his nose. “I’ve been swallowing it for months becauseyouwere leading by such a good example. I could tell from that meeting where we told you he was coming that there must be some history there, but I figured if you could handle it with such grace, I could too.”
The knot in my chest pulls tighter.
“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” I whisper, almost ashamed.
“I wish you had,” Alan says, his voice so tender it almost breaks me. “I could have stood beside you instead of just watching you bear it alone.”
His words nearly break me. They’re unbelievably sweet, but to be honest, I didn’t go through this alone.
Alan leans forward. “But that’s not what this meeting is about.”
“It’s not?”
“Addison, you’ve been incredible this season,” Alan says eventually, voice full of pride and flashing a genuine smile. “You’ve handled the press with ease—and I know that’s not a simple task with Carlos on the squad. You’ve elevated the club’s brand and reputation. It’s more than I could have asked for, truly.”
“Thank you,” I say, managing a small, polite smile.
“Now, I know you only signed on for the year,” he says, clasping his hands together. “And I know the job isn’t done yet, but I’d be a fool if I didn’t try to keep you.”
“What?” My heart thuds painfully loud. I almost can’t even hear Alan.
He smiles and slides a folder across the desk to me. I flip it open and inside is another contract, crisp and new.
“Thinkabout it,” he says. “We’d love to have you back next season.”
I don’t even know what to say.
I made rules for a reason.
One season. No strings. No staying past the point where something starts to root too deeply.
It wasn’t arbitrary. It wasn’t some cute, spontaneous decision I made on a whim. It was survival. It was how I got out. How I learned to stand on my own two feet again without anyone else’s voice in my head telling me who to be.
And it worked.
I built something here. A life. A version of myself that isn’t shaped by fear or control or someone else’s expectations.
My grip tightens slightly on the edge of the folder.
Staying would be easy.
That’s the dangerous part.
Because staying wouldn’t just be about the job. It would be about him. Oliver blurs every single one of my rules. He looks at me like I’m his entire universe, and in those moments, I let myself believe this thing could last.
But it couldn't.
