I roll it down.
“Shouldn’t you be at practice?”
“Watching practice. There’s a difference.” He studies my face, and I can see him cataloging everything I’m trying to hide. “Winters?”
“And Barrett.”
“About my timeline?”
“Among other things.”
Understanding crosses his face. “Fuck.”
“Apparently Jake mentioned something.”
“Fucking Jake needs to learn discretion.”
“We need to learn discretion.” I rest my head against the steering wheel, suddenly exhausted. “Opening night is tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My shoulder needs the time.” He pauses. “Your mom?”
“Teresa moved in this morning. Full-time help.”
“That’s... good?”
“It’s necessary. Mom can’t manage her pain anymore. Can barely get to the bathroom.” My voice cracks slightly despite my best efforts. “Teresa’s teaching her how to die comfortably.”
The words hang there, brutal and honest.
“Marnie, wait?—”
“I have to do clearances. Final checks before tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
“People will talk.”
“People are already talking.”
He’s right. And somehow that makes it both better and worse.
The training roomthe next day is pure insanity.
Everyone needs something. Tape, adjustments, clearance forms. I move through it mechanically, checking joints, signing papers, pretending my mother isn’t dying and I didn’t compromise everything for a man I can’t have.
Rodriguez chatters while I tape his ankle. “Cap looks miserable in that suit.”
“It’s a nice suit.”
“It’s not gear though.”
I focus on the tape, keeping my hands steady. “No. It’s not.”
Dex is next, needing his knee checked. “Roman’s been watching you work for twenty minutes.”
