Focused: A hate to love sports romance(13)

"The story is bullshit," she said calmly. "I never doubted it. The people in the front office in Miami know that, which is why there hasn’t been a single whisper about it to the media."

“Yet you know about it.”

She smiled. “Professional courtesy from someone in their offices who I used to work for.”

"What does this have to do with the documentary, Beatrice?" Logan asked.

She watched my face carefully before answering. "One part of my job is to facilitate positive brand awareness for Washington. A documentary like this is priceless for what it allows our fans to see. Normally, they wouldn't get access to meetings, film rooms, trips … the kinds of things that would never make it on social media. But we can give them that, and this way, we're controlling the narrative. Yes, it's documenting the reality of an established player coming into a new organization, but Noah, this allows you to show people the kind of man you are. Behind the helmet and pads and stats."

My hands, loosely clasped between my thighs, tightened briefly as I dropped my head and processed what she was saying.

"The truth is, I don't think what happened in Miami will be an issue. Not now and not in the future."

I lifted my head. "Aren't you supposed to be convincing me that that's why I should be doing this?"

"Probably," she said with a wry smile. "But I'm not trying to manipulate you. I'm simply stating the truth. You're a compelling person, Noah. Your reputation as a machine didn't come from thin air. But the players who matter to people are the ones who inspire devotion because they're heroes, not just record breakers. Look at JJ Watt or Peyton Manning or Drew Brees. Yes, they've broken all sorts of records, but they are beloved for so much more than that. That is why we’ll remember their names and treasure their legacies long after they stop playing."

Logan shifted in his seat. "You're asking him to show the other side."

"Yes," she said. "Show your fans that even for The Machine, it's hard to start over. It's challenging. But you're strong enough to overcome that challenge and find your place in an organization known for its positive culture."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I could already imagine telling my father that I was doing this, could hear the disbelief in his gruff voice.

But my father wasn't here. I looked over at Logan. "What do you think?"

He held up his hands. "This is not my decision. Honestly, I'm not even sure why she needed me here."

Beatrice answered that easily. "Because you're his coach, and this will require your support when we've got cameras on every angle of his life."

Logan grimaced. "That sounds awful."

"Helpful, thank you," I muttered.

He gave me an apologetic look.

The skin on my knuckles turned white when I tightened my fingers again. She wasn't wrong, but I didn't fully believe she was right either. I didn't need to be adored for all of eternity, but I did want to be the best at what I did. I shouldn't need something like this to prove it. Numbers proved it. Rankings proved it. Wins and losses and trophies. The respect that I earned on the field was subjective, based on who was judging me, but all the things outside of it that could be charted and reported and put into history books were cold hard facts.

But if no one remembered me, no one cared about the man behind the helmet, would the numbers matter?

Not being able to answer that question for the first time in my career made me feel like someone just tossed me into a pool of oil, slimy and thick. I couldn't push through it no matter how hard I tried.

"I'll do it," I heard myself saying.

Beatrice smiled. "Excellent." Then she looked past us to the doorway. "Perfect timing, Molly. Have a seat."

It would've been comical—the way that Logan and I froze in tandem at the entrance of his sister. But it wasn't funny … it wasn't funny at all.

"I need you to stay in coach mode," Beatrice said to the man next to me. The one who was sitting as rigidly as I was. "Can you do that? Because your sister assures me that your role within this organization has nothing to do with hers."

My eyes narrowed at the way she said it, disbelief rife and heavy in the words.

Molly took a seat next to me, and I caught the slightest hint of peaches as she did.

Fine. I didn't need to breathe by her. No problem.

"Molly got this job on her own merit," Logan said tightly. "And I'm always in coach mode."

Glancing quickly at Molly, she was settling in her chair, focused entirely on her boss. For a split second, her chin tilted in my direction like she knew I was looking but she refused to acknowledge me.

"Good," Beatrice said. "Molly accepted the role of special projects liaison for Washington this morning."

Did the earth just open up underneath me? I actually looked at the ground to make sure it hadn't and that my chair was still on solid footing.

Logan exhaled slowly, audibly. "She told me a little bit about the opportunity you’ve given her."

"I'm so honored that Beatrice is giving me this chance," Molly said with a loaded glance at her brother. "I'm excited to work with Amazon." She paused, and her eyes flicked to me for the first time since she sat down. "And Noah."