Page 36 of The Defender

“I wanted to talk to you because I received your recommendation request for the ISNA Innovator Award,” he said. “That’s an extremely prestigious prize.”

“It is.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, and I worried my reply came off a bit condescending because it was so obvious. “I would really appreciate a recommendation if that’s possible. You’re so well-respected in our field, and a letter from you would go a long way in helping me with my application.”

I discreetly wiped my palm against my thigh. If Jones refused to recommend me, I was toast. He was my direct manager; there was no way I’d advance to the final round without his support.

I had to make it to the final round. Maybe I’d win, maybe not, but becoming a finalist was about more than the money. It was about proving to myself that I had what it took to succeed andthat I hadn’t wasted the past ten years of my life on something I was only okay at.

“I’m happy to write you a recommendation,” he said. I breathed a silent sigh of relief.Thank God.“You’re a great intern. Some of your suggestions are unorthodox, but you work hard and you know your stuff. I’ve told you this before in your performance reviews, so I won’t repeat myself. However…”

I tensed again, my relief fading as quickly as it’d popped up.

“I’m curious why you didn’t email me about it until last week. Henry asked me for a letter months ago.”

My stomach sank. Of course Henry was applying too, even though he didn’t need the money.

“I didn’t know about the Innovator Award until then,” I admitted. “It’s my fault for not being on top of it. I emailed you as soon as I found out, but I truly apologize if the timing is too tight.”

I’d stopped paying attention to fellowships and awards once I got my master’s degree since I wasn’t eligible for most of them anyway. The oversight was on me.

“I see,” Jones said slowly. “It’s important to stay up to date on industry news. Just a tip for the future. But like I said, of course I’ll write you a recommendation. You’re an Armstrong. It’s a given.” He chuckled, but I didn’t join him.

My skin prickled. I heard his implication loud and clear: my relation to the head coach outweighed my actual job performance. Perhaps his Armstrong quip was a joke. If it was, it wasn’t funny.

Between me and yourgodson, there are a lot of Blackcastle legacies in the mix.I bit back my sarcastic reply and remained silent instead. It wouldn’t be smart to antagonize my supervisor right after he agreed to write me a letter of recommendation, no matter how hypocritical he was being.

“There’s another reason I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “As you know, your internship ends after the holidays. There are extremely limited openings on our permanent team, but we would love to bring you onboard as a junior nutritionist. HR will email you the official offer letter later today, but I wanted to tell you myself.”

My breath stalled. I blinked, my brain scrambling to reconcile his words with my earlier conviction that I’d be jobless come the new year.

Junior nutritionist.It was one step up from intern, but it was ajob. A full-time, salaried one with benefits at a top Premier League club. I wouldn’t be forced to ask my dad for money or work under some gym bro named Chad.

This was what I wanted…so why were there knots in my stomach?

“That’s great!” I masked my conflicted feelings with semi-feigned excitement. “I’m honored. Thank you so much.”

We went over a few logistical details before Jones dismissed me. I returned to my office, the knots multiplying by the second. I couldn’t pinpoint where they were coming from, and it pissed me off.

What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I be happy for once? The job offer was agoodthing. It proved that I deserved to be here—unless my dad broke his no-intervention rule and influenced their hiring decisions. Unlikely, but possible. Or maybe Jones and HR factored in our relationship themselves and decided it would be bad form to essentially fire their boss’s daughter.

You’re an Armstrong. It’s a given.

My head pounded. I was dying to know whether Henry also got an offer, but he was already gone for the day.

For once, I would’ve appreciated his endless rambles. At least they would’ve saved me from my own thoughts.

I turned my computer off, grabbed my bag, and texted my group chat with Scarlett and Carina on my way out of the building. I’d planned to work on my ISNA essay tonight, but I didn’t want to be alone. Besides, regardless of how I felt about the Blackcastle offer, I should celebrate. Right?

I texted my friends to let them know about the offer.

They’d talk me up. I could always count on my friends for perspective, and?—

“Want a ride?”

My steps faltered at the familiar voice. I turned, my stomach tightening for an entirely different reason as Vincent sauntered toward me. He’d changed out of his training kit and into a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. A gym bag hung over his shoulder, and he looked infuriatingly gorgeous for someone who’d spent the afternoon running drills in freezing weather.

I shook my head. “I’m good. I drove to work.” Sometimes we carpooled, but those instances were rare since we didn’t want to tip my dad off to our living situation.

“Your car will still be here tomorrow. I can get you home much faster.” Vincent fell into step with me. He smelled like clean soap and subtle cologne, an unexpectedly devastating combo that had me holding my breath in case it made me do something stupid, like take him up on his offer. “A Lambo beats a VW any day.”