I ran my hands over my face. "Shit, shit, shit. She said she’d had a rough day." My hands curled into fists. "Shit," I yelled. "I really want to punch something."
Marty gave me a warning look. "Don't even think about it."
With fumbling hands, I pulled out my cell phone and tried to call her. It went right to voicemail.
"Her phone is off," I muttered.
"Probably a work cell. I bet she had to leave it."
"Do you know how pissed I am at you and Rick?"
"Us?"
"Yeah." I glared at him. "My life was perfectly fine before you two showed up. And now I have an old man informing me that I fell in love without knowing it, and another old man who can't run for shit interrupting the first chance I've had to talk to her. I hate you guys."
Marty grinned. "We love you too."
"I can't believe she got fired." My chest pinched tight. And then tighter again. Love was awful. Even imagining what she must be feeling made me want to hurl an unsuspecting vehicle across the parking lot.
I knew how she felt because I went through it. I loved playing at Miami. One stupid choice on one stupid night, and a career I'd been building for years was upended.
Upended, but not ruined.
I liked Washington.
The team was strong.
The coaching was top-notch, even if one of those coaches was probably currently plotting my demise knowing that I slept with his sister.
The culture was accepting and warm. Stable. That was harder to find than you'd expect.
But there was no way I could have known that when I was shipped here just before the season started. And no way for Molly to know right now, caught in the muck and mire of feeling dumped by a place that was so important to her.
"She's a smart girl," Marty said, interrupting my thoughts. "This is a tough knock, but I'd put my money on her any day." He nudged my shoulder. "I mean, if she can go head to head with you without backing down …"
I smiled. She had, too. Thinking about all those moments now, I was such a fool that I hadn't seen how quickly she got under my skin. But she was there now, and I didn't want her gone.
"I need your help, Marty," I said, still staring at the road where her car had disappeared.
"Anything."
"Before you promise that, it may require you to be chained to that computer for a day or two."
He eyed me. "What do you need?"
I slung my arm around his shoulder, and we walked back toward the building "The way I see it, you and Rick owe me, right? For ambushing me in front of Beatrice. But I guess I owe you too, for bringing it up in the first place. I can be a little …"
"Blind?" he helpfully supplied. "Clueless?"
"Hyper focused," I amended, "when I'm in football mode. So that little trailer he sent me? I'm going to need more from you."
"I was afraid you'd say that." He sighed. "If she doesn't have a phone, how are you going to get in touch with her?"
I glanced back at the Wolves facility. "I know a guy."
"Just … let me film it when you ask him, okay?"
I laughed. “Shall we get it over with now?”
Marty's face blanched as he looked at the building with me. “Now?”
“Why do you look so nervous?”
His eyes never wavered. “Because I’m worried I’m about to catch your death on film. And Rick will never forgive me.”
I let out a deep breath. “Logan won’t kill me.”
Marty glanced over at me.
“Okay,” I hedged. “It won’t be pleasant. That’s why I’d rather rip off the Band-Aid now.”
He swept a hand forward. “Lead the way.”
I knocked on Logan’s door. Marty shifted behind me, probably making sure he had the optimal angle to catch whatever happened next.
“Come in,” Logan said.
My exhale was slow and steady before I pushed the door open. His head was bent over his computer, face hidden by the brim of his black hat.
“Do you have a minute, Coach?”
Logan’s frame froze imperceptibly at the sound of my voice. As he lifted his head, I braced for what I’d see on his face.
It wasn’t pretty.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. Logan’s expression was forbidding, carved from granite for as little as he gave away.
Right. Another member of the Ward family who would wait me out and force me to talk today.
“I’m assuming you know what happened,” I started.