“Should and will are two different things, sadly. I’m fine.” She picked up a lemon bar, because why the hell not? “I’ll be okay.”
“What happened with the Killian interview? Did he bail on you?” Mellie asked.
“No, I just couldn’t finish it.” She swallowed the bite of lemon bar, then realized she had to swallow again. It felt stuck.
“Too boring?” Irene asked wisely. “He never says anything, ever.”
“No . . . I just couldn’t.” She glanced at Cassie and saw a wealth of understanding in her warm eyes. Cassie nodded once, then reached out and rubbed a hand over Aileen’s back.
The simple comfort went a long way toward soothing the worst of her ragged edges. “It’ll be okay,” she said with resolve. Because it had to be. There were no backups.
And if she woke up every morning with a damp pillowcase from tears, that was her problem and nobody else’s.
Chapter Twenty-three
The season was over. Killian slumped against his locker, unable to believe the time had come. For the first time since he’d started playing in the NFL, he didn’t feel relief. It wasn’t a weight lifted off his shoulders to know he didn’t have to worry about keeping himself distant for another play-off.
Partly because he knew he’d miss seeing his fellow Bobcats every day now. They’d become more than teammates. They were friends.
But the truth was, it was Aileen he’d miss seeing. She’d stopped coming around his apartment, stopped showing up at practices, and hadn’t answered his two phone calls. Crazy how, when she’d started showing up, he’d considered her a nuisance. A cute nuisance, but one nonetheless.
Now, four days of silence was driving him insane, and he craved even the barest glimpse of her. He needed to know if she was okay, if she was upset . . .
If she forgave him.
Trey, already dressed in the khakis and button-down shirt he’d come to the stadium in, walked over, and gave him a light tap on the shoulder. “Nice game.”
“We lost,” Killian reminded him.
“But you did your job. Two field goal attempts, two field goals. Can’t ask for more than that.” He shrugged. “Wasn’t our season. Maybe next year.”
“Yeah.” Killian tossed a towel into the nearby hamper and grabbed his suit pants. “What’s up with you for the off-season?”
“Cassie,” Trey said with a grin. The woman’s name came out on a sigh, like a prayer. He sank onto the bench beside Killian. “I very much look forward to spending some time with her where I’m not juggling practice and being on the road.”
Because jealousy was never attractive, Killian nodded instead of snapping, Lucky you. “Thank her again, please, for getting her sister, Irene, to babysit Charlie today.”
“Trust me, it was no problem.”
Killian hesitated, then asked, “Is she always that uptight, or was that because she was nervous?” When Cassie’s sister—Coach Jordan’s daughter—had shown up at his apartment, she’d been quiet, barely saying two words. Though when Charlie had raced out of his room to inspect the new visitor, she’d softened considerably. Enough that he was sure she’d be fine with him. And Mrs. Reynolds was across the hall, in case they needed anything.
“Irene’s a good kid, she’s just trying to find her own way. She’s been under their mom’s thumb for so long, now that she’s breaking out, she’s struggling to figure out what she wants instead of what her mom wants.”
“Well, I appreciate her missing the game to babysit.”
“I think Irene and her mom needed some space. They’re still working out . . . issues. Watching the little guy was the perfect excuse to skip out of the game with the family.” Trey nodded. “How’s Aileen?”
“Dunno.” He picked up his bag, then let it fall back to the bench. “How the fuck would I know? She doesn’t answer her phone or call me back. She’s not hanging around here doing her damn job. She’s supposed to be interviewing me, isn’t she?” The last was said through his teeth. “So where the hell is she?”
“I think the interview’s off. She got fired.”
“What? You’re shitting me. That can’t be legal.”
“Probably is,” Trey said. “Cassie hung out with her yesterday. She’s on the hunt for a new job. Something about not finishing the interview . . .”
“I got her fired,” he moaned, letting his head fall back to smack against the locker. It hurt, but was less than he deserved.
Trey shrugged, zero help there. But clearly, he understood there was more than an interview in play. A few teammates walked past, slapping backs or shoulders. It didn’t make Killian antsy to bolt like it used to. And in the back, they were still sheltered from the media with locker room access. Somehow, the camaraderie was soothing as much as it was hectic.