Page 4

Chapter 4

Evie

Present time

The elevator starts its journey upwards and gravity pulls at my stomach. My hands shake. I'd like to say it's caffeine withdrawal, since I ran out of pods at home and I can't afford to stop for my morning fix at the moment. But, no. My hands tremble because my boss got fired last night and I'm terrified I'm next.

I step out of the car on the fourth floor and make my way through the large distribution hall, waving at Mallory in reception, and going past her toward the executive suite. Only a few steps later, I make it past the big glass doors that welcome everyone to the organization's front office. The logo of the Seattle Strike is embossed across the double panes and it hits me again— I ended up working for a pro football team and loving it.

It's not strange that I'm hyper aware of this fact today. If I get fired, I would miss everything I've learned as a PR executive for the team. I would miss the players and admin that keep my skills sharp. I would miss working at a building with secret spots that overlook Lake Washington, and which remind me I'll get to relax one day by the water in a tiny cabin with no one around.

Above all, I'd miss the salary. I can't afford any more financial stress, not with the way I've taken responsibility for my parents' debt. They have tried to do better with time, but it hasn't been enough to fix things. With their general insolvency adding to it, I've been in trouble for a few years. Always on the first day of my five year plan, it seems. Now, if I end up without a job, things would get worse fast. Especially when my parents' house is on the line, and we have only one year to save it.

I chew on my bottom lip as I walk through halls with a shiny-but-muted treatment on the walls. It's a hint to the silver lightning that serves as a symbol for the team, and it contrasts with the deep warm tones of the wood details and the shade of blue popping all throughout the space. That one is in honor of the main uniform color, and all the water surrounding the city and satellite towns. I smile and take a deep breath. I smell clean office materials but, if I try hard enough, I can pretend I can smell the ocean all the way from here.

One day, if my parents ever stop surprising me with more debt and it's all finally, finally paid off, things could change. I could save for a vacation where there's sand and sun and sea. Staycations have their charm, but a girl needs to recline on a beachside chaise lounge once in a while. My old trusty couch can only do so much for me these days.

That won't happen for a few years yet. First save my childhood home, then pay the rest of the debt. Then I can have an emergency fund for myself for the first time in my life and then, just then, I may be able to save for a trip. A proper vacation— a dream. As long as I don't get fired.

I curl my hands into fists to hide the tremors, and reach the new owner's office. Ms. Carmichael bought the team a few months ago and things still feel unsettled. I thought I was safe, but everything went to shit after receiving a curt email this morning. It informed me my boss had been fired and I was being summoned to the owner's office .

I ignore the instinct to run away and hope they'll forget I exist. Instead, I enter the owner's suite and wave at Ms. Carmichael's assistant.

"Hey, Marta!" I exclaim and plaster a grin on my face. "How are you doing today?"

"I'm great, thanks for asking."

I met her a few weeks before, when Ms. Carmichael had all of the front office staff together to introduce herself and get to know us. I made a point of remembering the assistant's name, because it makes people feel good, and you never know when you need to count on someone's favor for something.

"How's the pet?" I ask. "I think you mentioned Mister… Sniffles? Was that the name? That Mister Sniffles was sick?"

She gives me a genuine smile. "Mister Sniffles is much better! You have a great memory."

"I try." I wink at her. "But I have a meeting with Ms. Carmichael, for whenever she's ready."

"Yes, she's waiting for you and Mister King." She makes a gesture with her hand, pointing behind me. "Please take a seat. She'll be ready in a second."

I freeze. I'm sure I stare at Marta dumbfounded, but there's not much I can do about it.

Based on the assistant's words, Mister King is sitting behind me. Also known as Logan King. Also known as my first one night stand, and the man against whom I measure everyone else.

And he might be in the meeting for some reason?

Fuck!

"Uhm…" I tap my chin a few times, buying myself time. "Where could I get some water, if you don't mind?"

Surely there's a kitchenette somewhere nearby, where I can go hide for a hot minute and kill time. Figure out a plan, beyond smiling and crossing my fingers behind my back .

I'm not ready to face Logan yet. As soon as it was announced a few months ago that he would replace the old quarterback, I've been imagining the moment. I expected we would cross paths on a hallway or at a team event, and I'd be casual. I'd be vague. I'd inspect his reaction carefully, and act like I don't immediately remember… if he says anything at all.

He probably won't recognize me— I wear my hair mostly straight now, there are honey highlights in my chestnut hair, and my makeup game has leveled up. My outfits are a new style, too, with dresses and skirts and vintage heels I've painstakingly curated for a mix-and-match wardrobe. It was necessary. Coming to work in a professional, entertainment-focused environment, I needed to find ways to fit in without breaking the bank.

I didn't expect to meet Logan in the owner's office, but the hope remains he won't recognize me. I can't have that kind of past hanging over my head. I go to great lengths to avoid truly bonding with anyone. I'll smile and be kind and make their life easier somehow, but I won't get close. I will look at their vacation pictures and ooh and ahh , but no one will know that underneath that I'm aching to be the one going on adventures.

When it's easier to give than to take, and when I don't know how to say ' enough, I'm done' , I can't risk attachments. At work, I have job descriptions and policies. In life there's no manual, and I can't afford to dissolve into an empty shell that has nothing left to give.

And it's not like I can ask if he knows who I am. I can't fathom the embarrassment if he doesn't remember— a pro athlete playing for one of the biggest, most popular leagues in the world, pitying me for thinking he remembers the random girl he slept with years ago. So if I can walk away for a hot second and not allow him to look too closely…

Marta stands. "Oh, please take a seat! I'll bring you water in a minute."

I take a deep breath. My stomach twists into a knot. There goes that option.

The assistant leaves the office and my fate is sealed. I have to turn and face the man that defined my whole adult romantic life— or lack thereof .

I square my shoulders. He either remembers me and it's awkward that way, or he doesn't remember me and it's awkward a different way.

I turn. He wears a team hoodie and joggers in the uniform blue. He's somehow bigger than I remember, like maybe he wasn't done growing when we met… or like playing professionally did wonders to his shoulders. He's standing for some reason, and the famous frown I remember— and saw many times over on TV afterwards— is firmly in place.

Tingles feather my stomach. I erect the best shield I have, and smile. The rest comes to me without conscious choice. Whatever parts of me built my work persona take the reins.

"Hi there!" I cross the distance between us and offer him a hand. "I'm Evie Moreno, a PR executive for the team."

His hands remain in his pockets as he inspects me. It all probably happens in a single second, but time slows down and it feels like forever. His thick, black eyebrows furrow further and those eyes… gah, those eyes. In this light they look blue.

In the dorm room years ago, I thought they were gray. It wasn't until I recognized him on TV later on, and casually followed his career from far away, that I realized full debates are held in comment sections about the exact shade of them.

His right hand comes out of his pocket in slo mo. Full of hesitation, his fingers wrap around my hand. His warm palm engulfs me, and a shiver goes down my spine, like maybe my nerve endings recognize him.

"Logan King." His voice is deep, and his name curt.

"Oh, I know." I let go of his hand, hoping it doesn't seem like I'm ready to bolt. "I'd be poor at my job if I didn't have an understanding of who's on the team each season, and when someone leaked the news of your acquisition we were all paying attention."

I hold my hands casually in front of me. He stares at me like a hawk studying the landscape.

"Mmh." The sound is grumpy, this time .

He doesn't get to say more. Marta returns with a tray she leaves on her desk.

"I see Ms. Carmichael is available now," she says. "Please go right in."

"The two of us? We're both in the meeting?" I ask.

I hide my surprise well this time. I wasn't sure what I expected, considering Marta's comment earlier, but it wasn't to have a three-way meeting with the owner.

"Yes." Marta takes the tray. "If you'll open the door for me, please, Evie?"

"Of course!" I manage to say.

I tame the nerves in my belly, knock a happy pattern on the owner's door, and come in when I hear her voice giving me the green light.

I have no idea if this bodes well for me, or if I'm going to get fired in front of Logan for a Machiavellian reason, but there's only one way to find out.

"Good morning, Ms. Carmichael." I smile and approach her big, elegant desk.

The stunning Black woman smiles right back, and stands to shake my hand. "Hi Evie. Please call me Selena. Nice to see you again."

She wears a muted blue pant suit and a printed fuchsia blouse, and flat twists giving her hair an intricate pattern. She seems effortlessly chic, and even though my style is different, I appreciate her taste.

Her grin is warm, too. I allow it to reassure me somewhat, because a boss that smiles like that isn't planning to kick you out of the building. I subtly cross my fingers anyway, just in case.

"Please, take a seat, Evie." Selena directs her gaze at the silent man behind me somewhere. "Hi, Logan. Take a seat as well."

The Strike trains in a practice facility by the water on Lake Washington. Its official name is the Callum Fraser Athletic Center for the Seattle Strike, but no one calls it that. We all call it the Thunderdome, or TD for short.

Selena's new office is at the corner of the building. It overlooks the outside training field as much as the water. Marta leaves our drinks on Selena's desk and closes the door behind her on the way out. I take a deep breath when I realize this would have been my chance to ask for coffee, but we're done with pleasantries .

"Thanks for joining me this morning," Selena says. "I have to discuss something with you both, and it made sense to see you at the same time to talk about it."

I steal a glance at Logan. He hasn't said more than his name since I faced him, and he doesn't look at me. The constant frown on his face makes him hard to read, but he must be wondering why we're here. He doesn't seem to be paying much attention to me.

Relief moves through my chest. I don't think he remembers me, and now I'm free to focus on work. I'll think about his perfect face and those eyes of his another time.

Any memories that want to attack my mind will have to wait until I'm alone in bed tonight. It's how I'll reward myself for my courage in facing this meeting, when all I want to do is hide.

Selena taps her long nails on her thigh. "With the new season coming up sooner than we know, it's time to prove the Strike is ready to leave poor performances in the past. My goal is to take us to the playoffs in my first year, and the big game in my second."

Confidence infuses her voice, and it's easy to believe her… except the team has struggled to have more wins than losses in the past few years. At least, if she's talking about this, it's even less likely she wants to fire me.

"You know this, Logan." She gazes at the quarterback. "It's one of the things I told you when I convinced you to join us. I know you want to prove yourself as much as I do."

"That's why I'm here." His voice is monotone, yet there's determination in every word. "I'll do my part."

I gaze at Logan again. It's well known that his previous team dealt him a poor hand of cards. They kept him as the backup, despite being a first round pick, because the coach didn't trust him. Many rumors went around for the coach's reasoning, but none of them were confirmed .

Selena gives him a slow, considering nod. "Part of my plan is to engage the fans and get them excited for the team again. Hopeful. That's why we agreed to have the film crew following you around."

I frown. My boss was in charge of the TV special tracking the Strike's new era, with Logan as the quarterback. Rumblings traveled the halls that it wasn't going well, but I wasn't privy to the details.

"You won't regret bringing me to the Strike, Selena," Logan says.

"I'm glad to hear that," she replies, "because some things will need to change. You may have heard that Charlie was let go, but you may not know it was a direct result of his management of the TV show."

I straighten in my seat. Selena hasn't paid much attention to me, but I haven't missed a thing. If I read between the lines, the new boss wants me to use my PR powers for something Logan-related. Gears turn in my mind, bringing a hundred ideas to the tip of my tongue. To be in charge of anything related to The Strike 2.0, in particular something New Quarterback related, could secure my spot with the organization even further. And if it involved any kind of raise…

I take a deep, calming breath.

Selena looks out the window. "The production team from Sports Media Network complained to me earlier in the week. They showed me the material they have filmed since they were given access to the team at the start of training camp. They believe it's insufficient to make for a good mini-series, and they're threatening to pull the project."

"I thought the interviews were fine." Logan crosses his arms.

"And so did Charlie." Selena stared at Logan. "Unfortunately, he and I couldn't come to an agreement."

The owner of the Strike is a woman who commands the room. Her last statement sounds self-assured rather than threatening, but I understand the implication. She wants what she wants and she will make it happen.

"The network and my team, we all want the same thing." Selena gazes at me now. "Imagine this. The new quarterback with a chip on his shoulder finally has a chance to come out of his father's shadow. He never got his break with his old team, so what will he do to prove himself to the masses? He's going to show his old coach how wrong he was, by turning into the glue that finally makes this team cohesive. He's going to help take us to the playoffs. He's going to be the new King of football."

I'm a PR exec. I know a good story when I hear it, and this one could drive the whole season's media push. If Logan performs, the fans would go wild. Maybe even newscasters would stop comparing him to his dad, the old King of football.

My gaze lands on him, handsome to a fault, and with eyes that look hazel in this light. I don't know his history in great detail, but everyone knows of Logan's thirst to be a player whose stats speak louder than his last name.

If this is the story Selena wants to push… and if she sees me involved with it in some way…

I latch into every fiber of professionalism I have not to rush her. Biting the inside of my lip is a good way to keep quiet. A door seems to be opening for me, and I won't risk it closing before I can see what is on the other side.

Selena frowns and studies Logan for a second, me for another, to finally gaze out to the field again. "I want everyone to be thinking about it, Logan. You included. That means you need to give them what they want. Help me sell this story to everyone."

The man sitting next to me doesn't say anything, but the room cools a few degrees at Selena's words.

It doesn't matter. If Selena wants me to work with him on this TV show, then I very much will. I can handle difficult people, whether I have a past with them or not. One night many years ago won't be the thing that keeps me stuck in the tiny apartment I live in, or carrying the burden of my parents' wrong decisions. No matter if the mere thought of working so close to him causes tingles to my insides.

If making Logan shine is the way I prove myself, then I'll cover the new quarterback in rhinestones until I could pass him for a diamond in Selena's eyes .

"I want you to work closely with Evie." Selena stares at Logan again. "I want you two to create the perfect story for your first season with the team. What do you say?"