Page 23 of The Fine Line

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“Yes.”

“Yes?” he and Amy ask in unison.

“Yes,” I say again, smoothing my skirt. “Is that all?”

“Um, well, yes,” Bryan says.

“I assume I can start tomorrow?”

“That would be preferred?—”

“I can make it work. Thank you again.”

I turn and head for the door.

“Sorry, Caroline? We’ll need you to sign some paperwork?—”

“Can it be done over email?” I ask, pausing.

“Well, I suppose?—”

“Send it over,” I say. “I’ll have it back before the end of the day.”

And then I’m gone.

I don’t stop until I’m out of the back offices and into the main hallway. I pass the windows overlooking the Storm’s final practice before tomorrow’s game. I don’t mean to look, but my eyes flick over on instinct.

And I see him.

Rhett.

He’s standing still while the rest of the team skates laps. Helmet off. One hand on his hip. The other clutching the helmet loosely by his side.

Our eyes meet.

It lasts only a second—maybe less.

But it’s like he sees it all.

Everything in me stills.

His brows lift slightly, just enough for me to see the question in his face. The concern. And worse—the understanding.

He sees too much.

He always has.

My jaw locks. I rip my gaze away and keep walking.

I don’t let myself glance back.

Not even once.

It’s not until I’m safe in my car, the door shut behind me, that a single tear slips down my cheek.

I wipe it away. Sniff once. Steady my breath.

There’s no time for tears.

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