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It came out small.

He waited.

“Seattle’s offering ninety million dollars, and I don’t want it. San Antonio is the place I belong, and I don’t know how to admit that to myself yet. And Sam…” I stopped. Started again. “Sam looked at me yesterday like she was waiting for me to be a person, and I don’t know how to be one with somebody watching.”

“So you cut her.”

“Yeah.”

“In front of the room she’s working in.”

“Yeah.”

“With the nickname she gave you.”

“Yeah.”

He nodded once. Slowly. Not like he agreed. Like he was filing the answer where it belonged and getting ready to use it.

“Okay,” he said. “Now listen.”

He sat up straighter, forearms on his knees, eyes on mine.

“A woman gives you something soft in public, you do not turn it into a blade,” he said. “You did that. Own it.”

I did not move.

He turned to me.

“That’s the offer you owe Sam. Not just an apology. Apologies are cheap. The truth is what costs.”

“I don’t know if I can give her that.”

“Then don’t. But you don’t get to keep her either. Pick one.”

“And Evan.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t do it tonight.”

I looked at him.

“Okay.”

“Tomorrow, you let her come in on her schedule. When she’s ready to be in the same room, you let her see you not running. Then you talk.”

“How do I know when she’s ready?”

“You’ll know. She’ll look at you. That’s the signal. Until then, you sit in it and remember what you did.”

I nodded.

“Brick.”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”