Page 66 of Offside Secrets
He hangs up, already reaching for his keys. “Dad’s having another episode. Not as bad as this morning, but the nurse aide thinks I should come home.”
All thoughts of our conversation evaporate. “Do you need me to drive you? Is there anything?—”
“I’ve got it.” His voice is distant, professional. “Thanks again for...for everything you did today.”
“Campbell, please…”
“I should go.” He pauses at my front door, looking back at me with an expression I can’t quite read. “For what it’s worth, I think we’re two people who care about each other, trying to figure out how to make it work despite the hurdles.”
“We are. We were.”
“Were.” He nods slowly. “Right.” Taking a deep breath as he runs his hand across his face, he says, “Look, I've got to go help my dad but I need to talk to you about several things that happened after the game tonight…”
He trails off, eyes flicking away as if replaying it all. “Victor was in the corridor after the game,” he says quietly. “Where he shouldn’t have been. The way he was talking to a couple of women from your staff…it wasn’t right.”
As Campbell goes on to relay to me what he witnessed, and stopped in the corridor tonight, I feel heat rising inside of me as my stomach drops. I can picture it—the leer, the discomfort on their faces, the way Victor always seems to slither into spaces he doesn’t belong.
My hand flies to my chest, my exhale sharp and shaky. “I may kill him…” I breathe, words barely forming.
Before I can say more, Campbell’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He glances down, grimacing. “I have to go—the nurse needs me.”
“Go,” I say quickly, even though part of me wants to grab his sleeve and make him stay. “Go, go, go.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in my too-quiet house with the realization that I may have just pushed away the best thing that’s happened to me in years… in ever.
I sink back onto my couch, staring at the television where they’re still showing highlights from Campbell’s triumphant game. On screen, he’s celebrating, victorious, surrounded by teammates who believe in him.
In reality, he’s driving home to take care of his sick father, probably wondering why the woman he cares about just told him he’s not worth the fight.
The worst part? I’m not entirely sure I made the right choice. I’m not sure of anything anymore, except that my house feels emptier than it ever has, and somewhere across town, Campbell is facing another family crisis alone because I’m feeling the pressure to be the person he could lean on. Notto mention everything he just told me about Victor. I need to check in with Jenny and Lisa to make sure they’re okay. And then there’s the security footage… I’ll have to loop in the team’s legal department and figure out what happens next.
My phone sits silent on the coffee table. No calls from reporters, no text updates about new gossip blog posts, no board members demanding explanations.
Just silence, and the growing certainty that in trying to protect everyone, I may have hurt the one person I actually wanted to protect the most.
CHAPTER 23
CAMPBELL
By the time the weekend is almost over, Dad’s finally looking like himself again. The swelling in his hands has gone down, the gray pallor has faded from his face, and he’s moving around the house without that careful, pained precision that always makes my chest tight with worry.
The nurse aide Sutton had kindly hired for us left this morning after confirming his levels are stable. The house feels quiet without Patricia’s efficient presence, but it’s a good quiet. Normal quiet.
I’m in the kitchen making coffee when Dad shuffles in, wearing his favorite flannel shirt and the slippers I bought him last Christmas. He looks better than he has in days, but there’s something in his expression that suggests this isn’t a casual morning coffee run.
“Morning. Sleep good?”
Dad shrugs, sniffing the air. “That coffee smells good.”
“I can take a hint.” I grab his mug and put it on the table in his favorite spot.
He gives me a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s something behind it—something waiting. Not pain,exactly, but a weight. A decision he’s already made. I feel it in my gut before he even opens his mouth.
He settles into his chair, curling his hands around the mug like he needs the warmth for what’s coming.
“We need what my mother would call a ‘come to Jesus’ moment,” he says.
“Uh…” I pause with amusement, the coffee pot halfway to his mug. “Everything okay? Are you feeling?—”
