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forty-four

CAROLINE

My heart nearly stops as I’m torn out of deep sleep by a shrill sound.

I bolt upright in bed, chest heaving, blinking hard. It takes a few disoriented seconds to register Rhett asleep beside me, his arm slung across my lap. And another moment to realize that the sound is a phone ringing.

Carefully, I lift Rhett’s arm and slide out of bed. Limbs heavy, brain foggy, I follow the sound into the kitchen, stepping over scattered clothes from the night before. I find my jeans rumpled by the fridge, and my still-ringing phone in the back pocket.

I fish it out with a groggy sigh, pressing it to my ear while grabbing the tea kettle off the stove.

“Hello?”

“Caroline? Hey there, it’s Dave.”

I flip on the tap, the water roaring against the metal sink. “Who?”

“Dave Mercer. From the Titans.”

I shut off the water.

And suddenly I’m wide awake .

“Oh—Dave! Hi.” I glance toward the open bedroom doorway and spot Rhett shifting under the covers. My voice softens. “How are you?”

“Good, good,” he says, sounding distracted as muffled noises echo around him. “I’m actually about to hop on a plane, so I don’t have long, but I didn’t want to keep you hanging any longer.”

My stomach tightens.

“I understand,” I start, already bracing for a polite rejection.

“Everyone was really impressed.”

There it is. The setup.

“And…” he continues, “we’d love to offer you the commentator position.”

“Dave, I really appreciate?—”

I freeze, kettle still in my hand.

“Wait—I got it?”

“You got it,” he chuckles. “We’re all thrilled to have you in New York next season.”

My mouth falls open.

Oh my God.

I set the kettle down, my hand suddenly shaky.

“I can’t thank you enough?—”

I break off, distracted by Rhett stirring again.

“Sorry, Dave.” I duck into the hallway off the kitchen, lying, “My service is a little spotty right now.”

“No problem,” he says. “I’ll forward the offer letter to your email. I know it’s a big move, and there’s a lot you’d be leaving behind in Texas, but I think you’ll fit in great up here. Think on it over the weekend and let me know.”

I swallow.

“Thank you, Dave. I’ll be in touch soon.”

I end the call, and just…stand there .

This is it. Exactly what I wanted. What I’ve worked for. It should be a no-brainer.

But suddenly, it feels like one of those dreams where you’re weightless and falling at the same time.

There’s a lot you’d be leaving behind.

I shuffle back into the kitchen and set my phone down on the counter beside my purse. My mind won’t stop spinning. I fill the kettle, trying to focus, but my thoughts keep slipping.

Then my phone dings.

The offer letter.

I move around the island to grab it, but pause when I hear another ding—different tone, different phone.

I glance down. Rhett’s jacket is slouched right beside my purse.

The sound came from there.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I open the fold. His phone slides free between the layers.

I shouldn’t look.

But then the choice is made for me when it dings again.

The screen lights up.

And two messages flash before my eyes in bold:

Lauren: After what we shared the other night, I can’t stop thinking about you. Didn’t think you had that in you.

Lauren: Remember what you promised me. Call me after the game?

The world tilts. My vision tunnels. I grip the counter with both hands to keep from collapsing.

I can’t breathe.

No.

No no no no .

I want to scream. I want to break something. I want this to make sense.

But deep down, I realize?—

It makes all the sense in the world.

Isn’t this exactly what I always believed? What I always knew would happen?

Another ding.

This time, it’s from my phone.

The offer letter, right on cue.

The sound of Rhett’s bedroom door creaking open echoes faintly behind me.

Fight-or-flight kicks in like a lightning strike.

I’m already moving.

Down the hall, into my bedroom. Grabbing jeans, a bra, the nearest shirt. Shoving my laptop into my bag.

Rhett’s footsteps approach.

I duck into the bathroom. Splash cold water over my face, hoping—failing—to wake up from this nightmare. I pile my hair into a clip to keep from pulling it out. Brush my teeth hard enough to draw blood.

“Hey, baby?” he calls. “Looks like we’re out of eggs. I think I might grab us bagels. Sound good?”

I throw the door open and stride past him like he’s a stranger.

My purse is still on the counter. I reach for it.

“Are you in your sweet or salty mood?”

“What?” I snap.

“For your bagel,” he says, eyebrows drawing together. He steps behind me, arms sliding around my waist like nothing’s wrong.

I jolt away, skin crawling.

“No.”

“What?” he says again .

“No bagel,” I repeat. “I have to run.”

Far, far away.

He blinks. “Where are you going?”

I pause, forcing the words out in a flat voice. “I feel like I don’t know anything.”

“What do you mean?”

A thousand thoughts fly through my head—a monologue’s worth of accusations, insults, and fury. But as I open my mouth to say them, I realize?—

The last thing I want to do is give Rhett another second of my time.

I force myself to look at him. His head tilts, confused.

“Do you mean for the game tomorrow?” he asks. “You don’t feel like you know anything… about Chicago?”

“Yeah,” I lie.

Or do I?

I know about Chicago. But Rhett’s Chicago?

I’m still completely in the dark.

“I’m way behind,” I mutter. “I need to go get my head on straight.”

He moves to block me gently, brows furrowed. “Do you have to go now?”

“Unless there’s something you want to tell me.”

His expression shifts. “About Chicago?”

“About anything.”

He studies me. Then steps closer.

“You know,” he says softly. “There is something.”

I brace.

“I love you.”

It hits me like a slap.

“And you don’t have to say it back,” he adds, a smile tugging at his lips. “I just need you to hear it. Need you to know.”

I swallow hard. “Well, I hear you. ”

He reaches for me again, brushing my cheek with the back of his fingers.

I turn away.

“I have to go,” I say.

And I do.

I storm for the door, swinging it open.

“Caroline?”

I stop.

“Is everything okay?”

I glance over my shoulder, eyes burning. “Everything’s the same as it’s always been.”

I turn away, letting the door close behind me.

Everything from there until I arrive at the Storm headquarters is a blur. My vision is sharp, but my focus is gone. I barely remember parking or walking in.

I make a beeline to my desk, but a voice interrupts me near the coffee bar.

“Hi, Caroline.”

I look up. Linda is pouring cream into her coffee. Amy from HR stands beside her.

“I was just about to schedule a chat with you,” Linda says, cheerful. “Valentine’s Day is coming up, and we thought maybe you and Rhett could do something fun for PR. A video before the game, or maybe a segment during intermission?”

I nod slowly. The absurdity of her words barely registers.

“I actually needed to talk to you too,” I say.

Linda raises an eyebrow.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it—” Amy starts.

“Actually,” I interrupt, voice steady. “Amy, I think you should stay.”