Page 32 of The Backup Plan

I’ve built a career on pushing through the challenges. Today wasn’t any different.

Lucas. How did the man who saved me turn out to be the challenge I need to figure out?

He’s obviously in pain. Clearly enduring it for the sake of his own pride and love of the game.

I truly believe I can help him though. Too bad the doctors in his past have let his lies slide and allowed him to live and play in the pain I’m imagining he’s currently experiencing.

As I gather my things for the team meeting, I revel in the air-conditioning, the fact that the organization has it cranked low, and somehow my office has great circulation.

When my phone rings, I almost don’t answer it. I figure I’ll be the first one to the meeting and then realize that might make me look like I’m trying too hard, so I pick up.

“So?” Trish says immediately, no greeting, no warning. “Did you do it?”

I pause, my fingers tightening slightly around the phone. “Do what?”

She snorts. “Don’t play dumb. Did you actually sidle up to the bar and have a drink all by yourself?”

My gaze drifts to the window again. To the practice field and to the men still out there under the sun . . . to anything that isn’t the truth sitting heavy on my chest.

“I did, in fact, have a drink,” I say carefully.

“A drink,” she repeats. “Or a drink?”

I exhale evenly. “I went in. I ordered wine. Then I left.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “That hesitation tells me there’s more. Did you meet some hot guy? Was someone a jerk to you? What’s up?”

I close my eyes and picture her face. Her red hair and the freckles across the bridge of her nose. If I told her the truth, she’d drop everything and fly out here to be with me. And while the idea of comfort sounds wonderful, she’s picked me up more times than I care to count over the past year. She’s my crutch.

And coming here was a way to knock that crutch out from beneath me so that I was forced to stand on my own two feet.

“Nothing’s up. It’s just . . . nothing.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“Okay,” she finally says. “But you know if you need me, I’ll hop on a plane in an instant. All you have to do is ask.”

Exactly my point. And how lucky am I to have that?

A faint smile tugs at my mouth. “I know.”

“So then if you’re not going to fill me in on last night, then tell me about your first day. New job. New city. Tell me it’s been the best day of your new life.”

I snort. “First, you say that like it’s not mildly terrifying.”

“It’s supposed to be. That’s how you know it matters.”

“Second,” I say. “It is my first day, so a lot remains to be seen. I have an apartment I haven’t seen yet with boxes that were supposedly delivered, so I’m pretending not to think about what awaits me after work. I just need everything to feel a little more settled, but first impressions are I made the right decision. I definitely think I’ll like it here.”

I can hear her quick clap through the phone as she does when she’s excited. “That’s terrific. Awesome. An improvement from all the shit you left behind.”

“For sure,” I murmur and glance out my window to its perfect view of the practice field. The sun is relentless and yet a set of players is still out there, helmets off now, and jerseys soaked in sweat.

One of them in particular—the one who’s taller, broader—moves with a practiced ease that begs me to watch and assess.

“Earth to Em? Did you float off into deep space somewhere?”

“I’m here. Sorry. I was watching the QB’s shoulder mechanics as he threw the ball.”