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“What?” Sawyer asks.
“You’ll keep your word?”
“Of course,” she says icily.
“Okay. Unblock my number.”
With another scowl in my direction she fishes her phone from her purse and changes the settings. “Happy?”
“Too soon to tell. But it’s a start.” I open the door and lead her to the banquet room.
* * *
I toss the phone on my desk in disgust. I’ve called every day for the last four days, and Sawyer has yet to answer my calls. I know my number is still unblocked because I can leave voicemails now, although she hasn’t responded to any. Not even with a text to say that she got them, or that she’ll get back to me.
I curse my teenage self for the millionth time, wishing I’d done things differently. If I had, there’s no doubt in my mind my life would’ve gone another direction. I might’ve still suffered the injuries, although even that’s questionable since those stemmed from throwing myself into the game to cope with what I’d done. But I’d be with Sawyer. Of that I’m certain.
Breaking up with her all those years ago felt wrong as I was doing it, but I ignored that feeling because I thought I was doing the right thing. As soon as the words came out I knew I was making a mistake, but by that point the damage was done. It remains to be seen if that one mistake will cost me the future I planned on, but one thing’s for certain. I will never again ignore what I feel.
“Knock, knock.” I look up to find Amy at my door. Great.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m about to head out. There’s a pub a few blocks from here with a great happy hour. Want to join?”
“Ah, no. Thank you. I’ve got a lot to do here.”
“Come on. The draft is done, and training camp hasn’t started yet. It’s about as quiet as it ever gets around here. You can’t have that much on your plate.”
“I’m still trying to get up to speed on the organization,” I fib. “Good impressions and all that.”
“I hardly think you have to worry about making a good impression. You’re the youngest assistant GM in the country, poised to become the youngest GM ever when Milford retires.”
“Nothing’s set in stone. Most careers aren’t.” I mean to say that last part to myself, but she hears me.
“Oh right. The injury. How is your knee?”
“Good, all things considered.” When I went down in the third quarter of a playoff game last year no one held out any hope that I’d be back on the field. It was my second ACL tear, the first coming in college, and at this level, it’s hard enough to come back after one tear let alone two.
“Do you miss it? Being on the field.”
“Of course.” I don’t really want to talk about this with Amy. If you open the door a crack, she’ll come barging in, and I can’t get a read on whether she’s just overly friendly or angling for more. Until I know for sure, I’m trying to keep a little distance, but that’s hard to do without seeming rude.
“Well, I suppose it’s not the same, but at least this job lets you stay close to the game.”
“It does, yes.” Up until a few days ago that was a big deal, but after seeing Sawyer it feels secondary. Although, it couldn’t be further from the truth, I know she’s likely to think I chose the game over her, and while I do want to make a good impression here, that’s not as important as getting my girl back. And yeah, after all these years I still think of her as mine. Maybe that’s presumptuous of me, but I can’t make it happen if I don’t believe it myself, right?
“Well, you just let me know how I can help you get up to speed.” Amy flashes a smile and turns to go.
I nod in response, too afraid to saying anything that might invite more conversation. Plus, I really do have work to do. The draft was done by the time I came on board, so I need to familiarize myself with the new talent and forecast where they’re likely to fit in relation to our existing roster. Then there’s the matter of managing the roster against our salary cap. Milford will have a plan for all this already, but he’ll be expecting me to have an opinion and I want to be prepared. Maybe even present a few options he hasn’t considered.
I pull up the stats on the running back we took in the first round. The kid is fast, no question, but does he have the strength to break through a tackle? I’m not so sure, which means he might be more effective on the outside. Although, our line is stronger in the middle, so if they can create a hole, he could find success there too.
I’m making a few notes about formations that might be most effective for him when my phone beeps with a text. Colt’s inviting me to dinner. In thirty minutes. I shut everything off and race to the parking lot. I’m not sure what the reason is behind the last-minute invite, but as far as I know Sawyer’s still there, and I won’t pass up the chance to see her.
Twenty-five minutes later I ring the bell, and after what feels like another five minutes, the door finally opens.
“What are you doing here?” Sawyer’s voice is accusatory.
