Page 24 of Penalty to the Heart

Feelings of anguish and loneliness.

Of crippling desolation.

Devastating feelings that I miraculously was able to overcome but haunt me just the same.

Relief suddenly washes over me that Caleb Donovan isn’t a permanent fixture in my life and that our ill-timed encounter was just that—a one-off occurrence.

As I make my way to the underground parking lot of the hospital, my thoughts about Caleb are momentarily interrupted by the familiar ring of my phone. I instantly smile when I see my dear friend Trent’s name flash on the screen.

“Long time no see, stranger,” I joke since it’s been a hot minute we’ve talked.

Between winning our division, the sale of the Boston Guardians, and Rex leaving for Texas, I’m surprised he has enough time to spend with Piper, his girlfriend, let alone have time to check in on me.

“Hey, Roxanne. Do you have a minute?” he asks with that no-nonsense tone of his that says this call isn’t an old friend wanting to catch up with another, but a boss calling one of his employees for a quick convo.

“Actually, I’m just about to get into my car. Can I call you back once I get to the office?” I ask, pulling out my car keys from my bag.

“Actually, this is kind of important, and it can’t wait.”

“Hmm. Sounds ominous,” I taunt lightly while sliding into the front seat of my car. “Tell me. What do you need?” I ask once I’m completely tucked away inside the car to ensure some privacy.

“First of all, did I ever tell you what a remarkable job you did with Wilder? He has really come into his own this year. No doubt, thanks to you.”

“Trent?” I interrupt.

“Yes?”

“You’ve never been one for flattery nor beat around the bush about anything, so don’t start now. Just tell me what you need.”

“I need to ask you a favor.” He lets out an exhale.

“I think we’ve already established that much. Question is, what kind of favor are we talking about?” I ask, my hackles rising as to why he’s stalling.

Trent isn’t the stalling type. He always speaks his mind, uncaring who may have a problem with it. He’s never measured his words with anyone, let alone with me, so this sudden hesitancy not only feels out of place but is also unsettling.

“Trent? Out with it already. What kind of favor?”

“The kind of favor you won’t like,” he explains with an uncharacteristically guilt-ridden timbre in his voice. “I’m sending a new player your way, and I need you to rearrange your work schedule to make him your top priority.”

“And who is this player that suddenly needs such attention?” I ask, already fearing the name that’s going to leave his lips.

Don’t say it.

Don’t say it.

Don’t say it.

“Caleb Donovan. I need you to start counseling him… like yesterday.”

He said it.

“No.”

“Excuse me? Did you just say no to me?” Trent mimics, surprised by my answer.

“Correct. That’s exactly what I said. No. Do you need me to say it again?”

See, Caleb? It is that easy.

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