Page 132 of The Defender

There was a beat of shocked silence before the table erupted. Everyone showered Vincent with congratulations while I squealed and threw my arms around him.

“Congrats! Iknewyou would get it.” I kissed him, my chest swelling with pride and pure joy. “I had no fucking doubt.”

Vincent’s hand slid to my waist, holding me like I was his anchor. When I pulled back, his eyes were glassy and a little stunned. “I didn’t think…I…” He shook his head and laughed, the sound cobbled from a mix of shock and disbelief. “Holy shit.I got the Zenith deal!”

It sounded like it’d finally sunk in.

“We have to tell the rest of the team so we can celebrate.” Asher stood and dragged him out of the booth. “Sorry, Brooklyn. We’ll bring him back in a bit. Wilson, let’s go.”

For once, Noah looked vaguely happy to be part of the festivities. He followed them to another table, where Adil and Stevens were still arguing over Adil’s drink. Lloyd had already disappeared somewhere.

“Just bring him back in one piece!” I yelled after them.

Vincent could deny it all he wanted, but he and Asher were definitely besties. A moment later, fresh cheers arose from the team, and I laughed again.

My phone lit up with a new notification. I checked it, my laugh dying in my throat when I saw it was an email from ISNA.

Oh my God.It was my application status. It had to be.

I knew it was coming, but seeing it in my inbox was still a shock. It felt like a thousand years had passed since I applied.

I clicked on it, my heart racing a million miles a minute. I was so nervous the words blurred into a giant wall of text.

I blinked and tried again, my eyes skipping past the date and address in search of the key words.

Dear Brooklyn,

Thank you for your interest in the International Sports Nutritionist Association’s Innovator Award. After careful consideration, we regret to inform you that you were not selected as a finalist…

A loud buzzing filled my ears. I reread the opening paragraph twice, then a third time, as though that would somehow change the text.

It didn’t.

I dropped my phone on my lap and sat back. The noise from the pub faded into a dull hum as ISNA’s rejection echoed in my head.

We regret to inform you that you were not selected as a finalist.

You were not selected as a finalist.

Not selected.

Not. Selected.

I swallowed past the taste of sawdust in my mouth. I’d known winning the award was a long shot, but I’d hoped I would at least make it to the finals. ISNA might as well have mailed me a letter withYou’re Not Good Enoughstamped across it in bold red type.

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back before they could escape.

It’s okay. It’s just an award. You can always apply another year.But I couldn’t shake the creeping fear that the rejection was a sign from the universe—proof that maybe Ididn’tknow what I was doing and that I wasn’t cut out for this job.

Just half an hour ago, I’d been flying high from the Moore interview news. But an interview wasn’t an offer, and I wouldn’t put it past the universe to give me hope before yanking it away again.

A soft hand touched my arm. When I looked up, Carina was staring at me, her brow furrowed with concern. Scarlett had leftto use the loo, but I’d forgotten Carina was still at the table. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You look upset.”

“Oh, yeah.” I pasted on a smile. “I’m a little overstimulated. That’s all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.” I didn’t want to bring the mood down by telling her about the application.