Page 105 of Delicate Storm

“Isaac’s at home. You deserve some time to yourself.”

Reed means well, but his words are like a knife to the chest. I barely see Isaac; what right do I have to my own time? “Reed—”

“Please. You don’t have to enjoy it. Just come.” He bites back a smirk, but at the last second it shines through.

“Okay. Fine. But I am hating every moment.”

“That’s the spirit.” He slaps me on the back before heading over to Thomas next. Though from the look of euphoria on Thomas’s face, I don’t think he’ll need much convincing.

We crowd into a local bar, taking the booths in the back, spreading out like the cocky assholes most of us are, our obnoxious celebrations never wavering.

Luke buys the first round of drinks for our table, announcing that he’s leaving soon to talk to his wife and I’m not mad about it. Though I do note that’s a huge change for him. He was always the guy leading the party charge. It’s nice to see him putting his family first.

I check the time when he heads to the bar, wondering what Isaac’s doing now.

Since we had a day game, with the time difference it’s midafternoon back home, meaning I have another two hours before I promised I’d call. Like Luke, I have my priorities. On the field I’m dedicated to my team, but even then, Isaac is number one.

After we’ve been drinking for the better part of an hour, talk turns to the GM position and I catch Luke glancing in Thomas’s direction before Thomas subtly shakes his head. He knows something. He’d have to. It’s no secret that Wes and Thomas are good friends.

It shouldn’t be a big deal—the interim GM is doing a fine job—but I’m not convinced it’s the GM position that has the team rattled. I think it’s the fear that there’s more to come. That we’re about to see a wave of firings camouflaged as “resignations”—and the team is going to suffer.

I want to ask Paige about it. But I also don’t. Because what if it’s true? What if Coach Pierce is next? He can be a pain in the ass, but he’s good. He got us to where we are today, and we respect the hell out of him.

“I think it will be the guy from Tampa,” offensive tackle Wyatt says, raising a brow in challenge, “and none of you will convince me otherwise.”

“I bet Thomas could,” Luke chimes in, and I choke on a sip of my beer as I actually laugh. If you can rely on anything from Luke, it’s that he doesn’t play favorites. He’ll gladly throw a friend or brother-in-law under a bus.

Thomas groans. “How many times do I have to tell you? I haven’t spoken to Wes. I’m staying out of it.”

“Really? So it never came up when you watched the game with him the other week?”

“Nope. Because Inever asked. And you know he’s not a big sharer.”

“Yeah, yeah. Good excuse. Are you curious?”

“Of course I am. Just like the rest of you. But I don’t have any insider information.”

“Okay. I believe you. This time.”

“Thanks. Next time you want to call me out, asshole, do it in private.” He sounds pissed but since he’s smiling, I’d say he’s used to Luke’s shit.

Luke laughs before gesturing in my direction and I frown. “If I did it in private, it wouldn’t have made Easton laugh. You’re all welcome, by the way. It’s a nice sound, isn’t it?”

I almost laugh again, but refuse to give him that satisfaction, scowling instead so the others laugh for me.

Luke heads back to the hotel after that and the conversation moves on. When I next check the time, I have twenty minutes left before I need to be in my room. But since talk just entered more personal territory, I’m done.

I give a quick wave to anyone paying attention and opt for the short walk back to the hotel over taking a cab. I’ve just reached the door to my room when my phone rings.

“Hi, Mom. I was just about to call you.”

“Hi, Honey. Good game today. Isaac and I caught the end while we were breaking for lunch.”

“Breaking for lunch? That late? Sounds like you had a busy day.”

“We did. But I’ll let Isaac tell you all about it. I just put on an episode of that Halloween cartoon so we could talk first.”

“What’s going on?”

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