She’s close.
Closer than anyone’s ever come.
Across the café, Nate calls out an order, breaking the moment, and I tear my gaze from her, needing a second to find my center.
A mother of one of the seniors on the team waves shyly from the door, and I lift a hand automatically.
Grace clocks the exchange.“See.This is what I mean.They adore you.”
“It’s a small town.”
“It’s more than that.That woman was practically glassy-eyed and blushing like she was in the presence of a star.”
I scoff and force a breath through my tight lungs.“Can we get back to the questions that actually matter to your piece?”
Her eyes thin for the briefest of moments, not hostile, not angry… knowing.She’s looking right into my soul.
“Maddox.”Her voice softens around my name.“Thatwasone of the questions, and I’m going to keep asking it until you give me something I can use.The truth.”She straightens.“Okay, what about Erica?”
Fuck.Something uneasy twists in me.Like I’ve hit a wall at full speed with nowhere to swerve, no track left to escape onto.
How the hell did she link Erica and my retirement?Or maybe she didn’t, and she’s throwing things at me to see how I react?
“What about her?I thought this was about my career, not my personal life?”
“It’s all connected.”
“What do you want to know?”I’m deliberately cagey, uncertain what she knows, if anything, or what she’s getting at.I need more.
“You were high school sweethearts.Engaged when you left Winslow Grove but split soon after joining Madrigal.”
“That isn’t a question.”
“Well, what happened?”
“I don’t see the relevance.”
“Maddox, this is an in-depth feature into the man behind the championship.Everything and everyone that came into your life and influenced you to be who you are matters.”Her voice is neutral, factual, and I’m still at a loss as to what to do.
All I know is I do not want to talk about Erica.Not now.Not ever.
I look away for a few beats, mind racing through my options before my gaze swings back to her.“I think we’re done for today.”
She nods, stops the recorder, and gathers her notebook and pen.“Thanks for the coffee.”
Nearly falling off my chair, I’m not quite sure what to do with her immediate retreat.I’d expected, at the very least, a war of words, if not her downright refusal to leave until I gave her what she wanted.
I’m lost, but instead of taking the win, I don’t let it end there.“Grace.”
She pauses half-way to standing, eyes coming to mine.Expression impassive.
“For what it’s worth, you did good the other night.The kids were nervous, uncertain, and you made it easier.”
Something relaxes in her eyes—barely-there vulnerability that feels like a secret she didn’t mean to show.Shrugging, she offers a tentative smile, perhaps not sure if she should trust the compliment or gratitude.
“See you tomorrow?”The words are out before I can swallow them back.
I already know more time with her means more questions I won’t answer.But the alternative—pushing her away—lands too close to hurting her.I already did that and won’t do it again.