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I started posting. One after another. Even threw in some screenshots of my notes, their dates proving how long I’d been all in for her.
The reporter pulled up my account on the tablet, the corner of her mouth lifting with each photo. A little red heart appeared each time she tapped.
When the last one posted, I looked back into the camera. Ready to prove something else.
“Graciella Xochitl Barrera.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “I don’t know if you’re watching. But if you are, I need you to hear this. You are the person I trust, the person who has had my back.” I stared straight down the lens. “The person I love. I told you I’d chase you. I meant it.”
“I’ve got something to say.” Thatcher sat forward. “I’m Dalton Thatcher. Team Captain for the Stars.” He said it as if there was a real possibility that someone watching didn’t know that. “Vincent Langley is my birth father. I want to be clear that I had no knowledge of his involvement in any of this, and I want to be equally clear that it doesn’t change anything I’m about to say.”
He didn’t look at me. He kept his eyes on the lens.
“Coach Monroe is the best coach I’ve ever played for. If this organization decides to move on from him, I’ll walk.” He paused. “And I don’t think I’ll be alone.”
“Same,” Jimenez said.
Behind the cameras, the door opened. A handful of others, still in practice gear, walked in, parroting the sentiment, the cameraman swiveling to catch every word.
My throat tightened.
Then Tommy cleared his throat and stepped in front of the camera.
He’d been standing near the back of the room this entire time, quietly letting it all unfold.
“As General Manager of this organization, I take full responsibility for the situation. It was greenlit by upper management. We pressured Coach Monroe into taking extraordinary action to turn the tide of the press when we should’ve been standing behind him publicly from the start of this smear campaign. Coach Monroe isn’t going anywhere.” Tommy’s tone was final.
Now I could see how he got his position of team GM. He transformed from his slightly nerdy persona to someone who seemed to take no bull shit.
“He has a long career ahead of him with the Stars,” he continued. “And Ms. Barrera demonstrated a level of commitment to this team that went beyond her job description. She showed up for this organization and our coach in ways most people in her position never would have. Her job isn’t in jeopardy. If she still wants it, it’s hers.”
I leaned toward Tommy and said quietly, “I need to go.”
He glanced over and shot me finger guns.
I was already moving.
“Where is she?”
The gym door collided with the wall. Drywall dust and flecks of paint scattered across the mats, and Ariella’s head snapped up from her clipboard, eyes cutting between me and the damage I’d just done.
“Respectfully, what the fuck?” She set her pen down.
“You know why I’m here.”
Her jaw tightened. “Monroe—”
“Don’t.” I stepped inside, letting the door swing back on its hinges behind me. “The press ran the story. About me. About her. And now I can’t find her anywhere.”
The silence that followed was answer enough.
Ariella exhaled through her nose and set the clipboard down on her desk, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Itzel took her to the airport.”
The floor dropped out from under me.
“She’s already—” My throat closed around the rest of it.
“She’d already made up her mind, Josh.” Ariella only used my first name when she meant business. “She was protecting you.”
