Page 173 of Just One More Thing

The same thing I did after she left the first time.

I unlock my phone, scroll to the number, and hit call. It rings once. Twice. Three times.

“Good morning, Jake. What can I do for you?”

I lean forward, forearms on my knees. “Morning,” I say, and my voice comes out steadier than I feel. “Is the offer still available?”

There’s a pause long enough to tell me he didn’t expect me to call back.

“We’ve got some calls out,” he says, “but you’re our first choice, Jake.”

Some of the tension leaves my shoulders.

Through the windows, the bay sits quiet and blue-gray in the morning light. The kind of view that usually settles me.

Not today.

“I can be there later today,” I say. “Ready to go.”

“I’ll let Coach and the team know.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Hey, Jake.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Welcome home.”

The call ends.

I sit there with the phone still in my hand after he hangs up, hoping if I give it one more second, the screen will light up with her name. A call. A text. Anything at all that tells me to stop. To think again. To stay.

It doesn’t.

All I hear is Hank snoring and a gull outside raising hell over something that probably doesn’t matter.

I toss the phone onto the cushion beside me.

Tampa.

Back to heat rising off pavement. Film study until midnight. Playbooks spread across meeting tables. Cannons firing in Raymond James.

Back to noise loud enough to drown some things out.

Maybe not all of them.

But enough.

I pick up my phone again and tap open THE HUDDLE group chat.

Wayne sent a gif sometime during the night. I ignore it.

I’ll see you guys this afternoon.

Ryan: For a visit or this official?

Official. Just hung up with the GM.