Page 18 of Play Me

“She hated me before she even knew who I was.” I have one shot at convincing him to hear me out. If I don’t take it now, I’ll never get it again. “How do you know she didn’t quit just to screw me over? Wouldn’t it be more logical to give me an assistant who doesn’t dislike me from the jump?”

“No.”

“ No? ” I scoot to the edge of my seat, imploring him to listen. “Why her? I mean, I don’t understand why you think I need a babysitter to begin with, but why her ? Why not someone else?” I groan, slapping my knees as I sit back. “You can’t just do this. You can’t fuck me over like this.”

Renn shoves away from his desk and stands.

“I brought you here because you’re a highly skilled player,” he says, his jaw ticking. “But I also brought you here to keep you from ruining your life.”

I flinch at his words.

“Do you think I pay my players what I do without investigating them first?” he asks. “We have the highest payroll in the league—by far. Do you think I just sign those checks without knowing who I’m writing them to?”

This can’t be right. “No, but?—”

“No one is fucking you over, Adler.”

I laugh in disbelief. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. Really.” He rolls the cuffs of his shirtsleeves up his forearms. “You think everyone is against you, but it’s really you against yourself. Face the facts.”

“I didn’t realize you were a philosopher on the side.”

He pins me in my seat with a sharp look. “Look around. I’m doing just fine for myself. It would behoove you to shut your mouth and take notes.”

If it were anyone else in the world saying those things, we’d brawl.

“I see me in you,” he says. “I’ve not been exactly where you are right now, but I can imagine it.”

“You can imagine it?” I lift a brow, not sure what he knows. Doubtful that Renn Brewer could ever understand my shit. “I find that hard to believe.”

Renn finishes his sleeve and adjusts it to his liking before he looks at me again. Once he does, I know the truth. He’s done his research.

He knows.

The room closes in, the walls rapidly encroaching.

My heart kicks into overdrive, rushing blood through my veins at warp speed.

I haven’t discussed this at length with anyone—not Brooks, not Hartley.

No one . I’m not prepared to talk to Renn about it, and I sure as fuck don’t want to talk about it now.

Everything feels urgent, and I’m desperate with no direction. My life is slipping through my fingers, and I’m watching it happen. No matter how tightly I curl them, I can’t stop the grains from falling to the floor.

“A few years ago, my father did some very unscrupulous things to my family,” he says, his temple throbbing. “He’s now living the rest of his life in a cage—that’s how bad it was.”

I still.

“So I’ve been through some shit, my friend,” he says. “And I’ve battled a lot of demons. A lot of guilt. I’ve maneuvered a lot of blame.” He takes a breath, and it feels like the room does, too. “Do you know what I’ve learned?”

I subtly shake my head.

“Every loss doesn’t mean someone fumbled.

” He tosses that into the room with the casualness of a weather report.

He plants both hands on his desk and levels his attention on me.

“I brought you here to try to save you—to give you an opportunity to save yourself. If you don’t want to do that, that’s on you. But you won’t take Astrid down, too.”

I rest my elbows on my knees and hang my head.

His words slice me like a thousand papercuts. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I was prepared—but I wasn’t. I wasn’t ready to have things brought to the surface and shoved in my face.

I didn’t want to look in this mirror.

As hard as it is to hear, knowing that Renn has some idea of what I’m going through does marginally ease the burden. Just enough to breathe. That small opening reduces the fog in my head and lets me think clearly.

And the first thought that comes through the haze is Astrid.

She’s uncomfortable working with me . Renn’s statement echoes throughout my body, winding through my veins like venom.

The words are deliberate. She doesn’t just dislike working with me, and she doesn’t just hate me. She’s uncomfortable with me.

Flashes of our interaction in the locker room come rolling back. The words I chose. The way I chose to deliver them. The impact they might’ve had …

“But you won’t take Astrid down, too.”

Those thoughts are followed by the memory of her standing in my living room, holding that fucking picture, and the fury and embarrassment I felt—and that I let get to me. That I let spill over to Astrid.

Sure, she’s a savage who has poked me as many times as I’ve needled her. But she’s really an innocent bystander in all of this, and she doesn’t deserve my bullshit. That look in her eyes? It was pain.

I’m no better than Breaker.

Fuck .

I sit up, fortified by the clarity in the truth, and clear my throat. “I said a few things more … harshly than Astrid deserved, and I can man up to that.”

Renn nods.

“Is there any chance she’ll work with me again?”

“There’s zero chance I’m asking her to do that.”

Fair . “What if I talk to her?” That feels a lot like walking into a lion’s den right about now, but there’s no alternative. And I probably have it coming.

His lips twist as he thinks. Finally, he shrugs. “You have until midnight. I can reinstate the bonus before the end of the day. Otherwise, it’s over.”

“Okay.”

“But if you do get her to agree to this, and you ever push her to this point again …” His look is cold. Lethal . “Don’t do it. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Understood.”

“Now get out of here,” he says, shooing me toward the door. “You’ve wasted enough of my day.”

I get up, grab my bag, and rush to the door. Before I open it, though, I turn to him. “Renn?”

He looks up from his computer.

“Thanks,” I say, swallowing hard. “For all that.”

“Pay me back by bringing a title to Nashville. Now go.”

“Yes, sir.”

I step into the hallway, yanking my phone out of my pocket before Renn’s door is even closed. Astrid’s name is in my recent text log, and I click on it.

Me: Can we talk?