Page 125 of Wild Card 13

“Anytime.”

By the end, Sarah had assigned half the room action items, Coach had agreed to adjust morning skate timing, Rawlings had promised three follow-ups in the tone of a man praying he would remain employed through lunch, and Alois had agreed to arrive at eight-thirty without threatening anyone. Mostly because Bea had apparently already told him to. The man was terrifying on the ice and completely owned by a five-foot-something PR strategist with gold hoops.

Sarah closed her tablet. “Lucy, send final briefing documents by end of day.”

“They’ll be out by four.”

“Good. Buzz, two-thirty with Lucy.”

“I’ll be there.”

Coach pushed back from the table. “And tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there too.”

Alois stood, towering over all of us because subtlety had never been part of his biological design. “This is suspicious.”

“What?”

He looked at me. “You have agreed to everything.”

“I’m growing as a person.”

“No.”

Sarah gathered her things. “For the sake of the event, please continue whatever this is until tomorrow afternoon.”

Coach laughed as he headed for the door. Rawlings escaped with the energy of a man leaving a crime scene.

Ezra remained near the head of the table, watching Lucy. For a moment, I thought he saw it. The tightness. The way she was holding herself together with both hands. But then he smiled softly, proud and warm and completely missing the bleeding edge underneath. “You handled that well, Luce.”

Her expression softened slightly. “Thanks, Dad.”

Ezra squeezed her shoulder on his way out. “This role is a lot in the first few weeks. Give yourself room.”

Lucy nodded. “I am.”

She was lying. He believed her because he wanted to. Or because fathers, even good ones, sometimes saw what they needed to see in order to keep breathing.

Ezra left.

Sarah followed, pausing only long enough to look between me and Lucy one more time. “Two-thirty,” she said.

Lucy nodded. “Yes.”

Sarah’s gaze landed on me. “Do not be late.”

“I am wounded by the implication.”

“You should not be.”

Then she left too.

Alois was last. He stopped beside me on his way out. I already hated whatever was about to happen.

He looked down at me. “You are not subtle.”

“I’m not doing anything.”