“If you make it through the deadline, would you think about taking over my lease? There’s five months left.”
“Sure I’d take it over,” Leo said quickly. “But that’s a big ‘if.’”
Silas gave him a sad grin. “Let me know. It’s a lot of rent but I’ll miss that place.”
“I sure will.”
They shook hands.
Leo got dressed and wondered where Georgia was. The jet would take them all back to New York tonight on a late flight. Leo was looking forward to going home. He slipped on his shoes and went to find her.
But when he stepped into the hallway, someone stopped him. “Leo. Could you come here a minute, son?”
Leo’s head snapped up with surprise. It was Karl Worthington who stood frowning at him. “Sure,” he said, wondering why Coach’s voice sounded so dire. Here it comes, he thought as he followed him down the hallway. “What’s the problem?”
“No problem.” The coach stopped and crossed his arms. “I just want to apologize to you.”
Leo just blinked for a minute. “You do?”
“Yeah, for being an asshole.” Karl stuck a toothpick in the corner of his mouth. “Georgia’s senior year of high school was really hard on me.”
“No kidding,” Leo said quickly.
But Coach shook his head. “Not just the last part. The whole thing. You two were gonna fly the coop. I helped my little girl pick a college. Then I helped you get onto that D-1 team where I knew you could become great. And everything was fucking over. Georgia was my whole family. No—Georgia and you were my whole family. When I thought you two were going to break up, I was angry at you for leaving both of us. And then . . .” He looked down at the rubber matting on the floor, shaking his head. “I blamed you even though it didn’t make any fucking sense. I just wanted to go back in time to where the two of you were happy, sneaking around boosting Georgia through her bedroom window after curfew.”
Leo’s chest was tight. “We broke a lot of rules. But I loved her.”
Coach’s voice was gravel. “I know you did. I trusted you completely.”
Yikes. “Thing is . . .” Leo rubbed his chin and tried to form words that made sense. “Who knows what would have happened? Maybe Georgia would have gotten sick of the long-distance thing. It happens. Or maybe I would have. We were so fucking young.”
Karl gave him a sad smile. “I know. But I met my wife in high school. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. And you had a good heart and you made her laugh. Meanwhile, I’d just spent a decade coaching some real punks in college. At seventeen, you were twice the man as most of them. I had faith in the two of you. Until I didn’t anymore. I’m sorry.”
Leo leaned back against the wall and tipped his eyes toward the ceiling. What was with his eyes today? They kept getting scratchy and hot. “Apology accepted,” he said.
Karl exhaled. “Now go find my girl and make her happy. You both deserve it.” He held out a hand.
But something—maybe it was his competitive streak, or maybe it was love—made Leo grab him for a hard, back-slapping hug instead. Then he left Coach blinking in the hallway and went to pack up his stuff, so that he could catch up with Georgia on the jet.
THIRTY-THREE
Georgia would have been the first to board the plane, but she was waylaid by Hugh Major. “Can we chat about the PR department for a second?” he asked. “I know it’s late, but here we are . . .”
“Sure,” she said quickly. If he was going to give her bad news, they might as well get it over with.
“You didn’t get back to me about those two candidates,” he said right away. “I liked both of them. But if you’re going to be working with whoever I hire, I really want your opinion.”
She held in her sigh. “I’m sure I could work with either one. They’re both amazingly qualified.” More qualified than I am.
“That’s true. But you and I need to talk about the division of labor.”
Here it comes. Georgia looked square into Hugh’s eyes and waited for him to explain that she’d be working for the new guy. She’d take it like a champ, and maybe he’d see just how professional she really was. “How do you see the division of duties?” she asked calmly.
“I’m going to appoint two coheads of PR. You and a new guy. So—” He spread his hands.
Georgia visibly jerked at this news. Did he really just tell her she’d (mostly) stay in the top chair in PR?
“—You need to tell me whether you’d rather be in charge of player communications—finding and arranging their interviews, handling their scandals, you know. The usual. Or do you want the half of the job that deals with our nonprofit outreach? The hospitals, that women’s shelter, the Brooklyn Arts efforts. My gut says you like that side of it more, but I want to hear it from you.”
For a long moment, she just blinked at him. “Well . . .” Pull yourself together, Worthington. “I enjoy the nonprofit work the most. But I can handle either job.”
“Of course you can. But if you want the nonprofit work, I’m going to hire the one guy, and if you want the player representation piece, I’ll go with the other—the Wharton guy—for the nonprofit work.”
“There will always be some overlap,” Georgia pointed out.
“Absolutely. So what’s it going to be, Miss Worthington?”
“I’ll take the nonprofit piece. We could really do so much more on that front.”
Hugh grinned. “Nathan will love that. He really wants to show the world the Bruisers are good for Brooklyn.”
“They are,” Georgia agreed. “Our next benefit is for a women’s shelter. Fifty kids live there on a temporary basis. I want to have a skating party with some of the players. These kids should know that not all men are awful.”
“I like it.” Hugh held up a fist to bump, and Georgia bumped it. “That’s good outreach without much expense.”
“Ice time on the practice rink and a few refreshments. I’ve already done the math. And I think we could donate ice time to Boys and Girls Clubs of New York, too.” She heard herself start to babble. Hugh didn’t really need an entire business plan at eleven PM. “Anyway. I have ideas.”
“Glad to hear it, Killer.” He winked. “I think they’re ready for us.” He looked past her at the Jetway door, which had just been opened.
Georgia practically scampered onto the plane. She was incredibly relieved at what Hugh had planned for the HR office. Two coheads was a structure she hadn’t considered, but it made a heck of a lot of sense. It meant that the PR exec working on the nonprofit projects wouldn’t always be yanked into whatever gossip or scandal was brewing with the team.