Page 23 of Set Play

“It’s okay, if you’re okay with it, two colors isn’t hard to do. Or if you were worried about her revealing your top-secret identity. I recognized you immediately. Don’t worry though, your identity will not leave this clinic. Especially not when a child’s safety is involved.”

I know HIPAA technically assures that, but I’m not naïve enough to believe that every medical practitioner follows the guidelines when there is the potential for fifteen minutes in the limelight.

His shoulders fall as he releases a sigh. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

I give him another smile before turning back to Croía and helping her find the perfect blue to match the Storm. Scooping her up, I set the little one on the exam chair before positioning the stockinette over her arm and wrapping it with cotton padding.

I don’t notice Cillian moving toward us until I move to submerge the fiberglass rolls in water and bump into him. “Oh, sorry about that.”

Once they’re pliable, I squeeze out the excess water and turn back to Croía. She’s tucked her good hand into Cillian’s and is staring up at him adoringly. The whole thing brings a smile to my face as I start the tedious process of wrapping the cast up her arm.

“Do you know why?”

I’m so focused on my task that I jump at the sudden loss of silence. Looking up, I arch an eyebrow in question. “Do you know why it means a lot to me that you won’t say anything about this visit?”

I shake my head as I finish wrapping the first of the two fiberglass colors. “I also recognized you, Élise, and I know it can be tempting to redirect the spotlight. So, thank you. I owe you one. Both for not trying to do that and for easing Croía’s mind during this. You know, Mateo—”

I interrupt him midsentence, feeling a little guilty, but I’m not willing to discuss that right now. “Cillian, you never have to thank me for doing my job or not putting a child at risk. I don’t know what you’ve dealt with in the spotlight, but I’m sorry you’ve also had issues. Now, let’s talk about cast care.”

He lets me finish without interruption and just when I think I’ve managed to avoid the topic entirely, Cillian hands me a small sheet of paper. “You should text him. He wants to find a way to work through this disaster. Mateo is my best friend, so believe me when I say that this is absolutely killing him. Just think about it, please.”

With that, Cillian hauls his daughter off the chair and walks out of the clinic without looking back.

Ten numbers stare back at me from where I set the paper Cillian gave me on my bed. I’ve been debating on texting Mateo ever since I got home. Again, I reach for my phone, typing the number into a new message, but I quickly close it, chickening out for the tenth time.

I look back at my laptop, sighing at the multiple open tabs of job listings. Much to my dismay, there haven’t been any new sports medicine positions posted in the last week. This was supposed to be a distraction.

I’m about to scroll through the listings for the third time when my phone starts to vibrate. Despite not having the unique ringtones to help distinguish between callers, I answer without bothering to check the caller ID. Only four people ever call me, so I’ll know who it is once they talk. Except the voice that greets me when the call connects doesn’t belong to Niamh, Henri, or my parents.

In fact, it doesn’t belong to anyone familiar.

“Good evening. Is this a…Ms. Clement?”

My spine straightens, hope blossoming in my chest despite the annoyance that flares at the way my name is said. Nearly everyone here says “Cleh-Mint” instead of “Clay-Mohn.” It’s one of my least favorite things about living in Memphis.

Ignoring my knee-jerk desire to correct their pronunciation, I try to figure out who is calling me. I’m still hoping for two organizations to call me back after interviewing me for their medical teams.

“Yes, sir. How may I help you?” I’m nearly positive this is about a job, which means this is either the local university or…

“My name is Geoffrey Hughes. I’m calling on behalf of the Memphis Storm. After careful consideration of your credentials, interview, and background, we’d like to offer you the position conditionally.”

My heart sinks on the last word and anxiety wraps tightly throughout my chest. “C-conditionally? I don’t understand.”

“Well, Ms. Clement. Since your interview, it seems you've landed yourself on the front page of many sports journals, and not in a flattering light.”

The dread coils even tighter.

“However, we pulled Mr. Reyes into the office to discuss the matter, and he explained that it was all a big misunderstanding. I believe his exact words were…”

Wait, what? Mateo defended me to the hiring committee?

Why would he do that?

More importantly, how did he do it?

“So, Ms. Clement, we just need you to confirm that this is true. And of course, attempt to avoid being in negative headlines moving forward. It's unrealistic for us to expect none, but nothing like this, understood?”

Shit. I missed half of what he said.