Page 100 of Worth the Try
His thick hair is mussed from sleep and his beard needs trimming. Behind his glasses, dark smudges have taken up residence beneath his warm brown eyes, eyes that have dimmed with every passing day since the gala. On the desk in front of him are a pile of papers strewn from one side to the other, along with sticky notes, pens, and highlighters.
“I brought you coffee,” I offer, raising the steaming cup and stepping into the office.
He leans back in the chair and scrubs at his face. To the side of the desk is an old couch, lumpy and stained, and the last remnant of Ansel’s college days. A pillow is at one end, an Atlanta Granite blanket bunched at the other.
“I wish you’d come sleep in the bed,” I say quietly, handing him the coffee.
He takes it and brings it to his mouth. The steam fogs his glasses as he takes a fortifying sip. “Thank you.” His voice is scratchy.
I tilt my head toward the couch. “Come sit. Take a break.”
He clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “I’m behind. I need to review?—”
“You need to take a break.” My voice is soft, insistent.
His gaze seems to finally focus on me then. “I don’t get to take a break. I have videos to review and practice schedules to confirm. I have emails from sports press around the world that Frank has decided I’ll be responding to instead of Kari. I have an eighteen-year-old kid joining the team, against my wishes but hey, I’m just theinterimcoach when my decision isn’t one they want to hear. I have to figure out who’s going to be his mentor in a ridiculous attempt to keep him from falling prey to every rugger hugger out there, because thanks to all this,” he gestures at his phone, “the entire fucking world seems to think the Granite’s fly-half is open for business!” he snaps.
My spine straightens at his tone. “I’ve already had one person yell at me this morning. I don’t need you doing it, too. It’s not nice.”
He blows out a breath. “Yeah, well, neither is this.”
“Let me help you.” An idea takes hold as the words form. “We can do this together. I’ve done nothing these past few days except read lie after lie. We can have another press conference. I can explain?—”
“That’s not a good idea, Elle.”
But I press forward. “Just think about it. We can start a counter-campaign. If Frank won’t let Kari do it, then I bet your agent knows the right people.”
“No, Elodie.”
His tone stops me immediately. I meet his eyes. “Did—did something else happen?”
Emotions fly across his face, too fast for me to track. Anger, sadness, desperation, fury, determination. And when he finally speaks, his voice is cold and distant. “I got notice of a custody hearing.”
My stomach turns to ice. “No.”
His laugh is harsh. “You think I’d lie about something like this?”
I shake my head. “That’s not what I meant. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And when would I have told you? During your doom scrolling yesterday afternoon, or before your session of doom scrolling last night?”
I ignore the hateful jab. “You got it yesterday? You’ve carried this by yourself for a full day and didn’t tell me?”
He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
That’s not the point. That’s entirelybesidethe point. “Did you tell anyone else?”
“Other than my lawyer? I called my parents.”
“But you didn’t tell me?”
“What do you want me to say, Elodie?” His voice is clipped, harsh. “No. I didn’t tell you.”
“But I could have helped!”
“How?” he demands. “How could you have helped?”
“I could have—I don’t know, but?—”
