Page 162 of Mending Hearts
Another pause.
“All right,” she says at last. “We’ll reinforce the legal response. I’ll have a statement drafted regarding the misuse of copyrighted material and false claims. You are not to comment publicly without review.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“And you stay with Vinny. No solo movement.”
“Understood.”
She softens slightly. “I know this is personal.”
“It is.”
“We will handle the legal side.”
“I know.”
I hang up and stand here for a moment, staring at the now-empty kitchen. The coffee has gone cold. The television is still murmuring about playoff standings.
Two days.
Two days until the anniversary we almost never get to have.
Ollie has an away game tomorrow. He has one day off after that.
We’ve already talked about it. Low-key. No spectacle. Maybe dinner. Maybe just staying in. Maybe finally acknowledging it without secrecy.
There is no version of this where I fly back to LA and let that date pass from a different time zone.
Not after everything.
Not after eight years of almost and never.
My phone buzzes again.
Ollie: Practice is a bitch. Is it bad that I’ve hidden for five minutes?
I stare at it for a second. Then I type back.
Me: Your shoulder playing up?
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Ollie: Nothing I can’t handle.
I exhale slowly. I’m not prepared to distract him from practice with any of this shit.
Me: Just look after yourself.
The reply comes seconds later.
Ollie: Will do. I think you’ll need to give me a massage when I get home. Just saying.
I smile, his ease loosening some of the stiffness in my shoulders.
Me: I’m sure I can manage that. Now get back to it before your coach goes after blood.
I set the phone down and drag a hand through my hair.
