Page 186 of The Fine Line
He nods. “Good, good.”
My brain still half-foggy, it takes a moment before it clicks. “NHN isn’t doing the broadcast tonight. What’re you doing here?”
“We’re covering Chicago vs. Nashville tomorrow. I got in early and thought I’d catch this game. Actually?—”
His eyes flicker past me toward Caroline, who’s still talking to Bryan.
“I stopped by to congratulate your wife, but I can see she’s busy.”
I tilt my head.
For her commentary during the Detroit game? That feels pretty delayed, but it makes sense that he would still be thinking about it.
“Yeah, she really was amazing on that Detroit broadcast,” I say.
“She sure was. And she’ll be incredible in New York next season.”
I pull my head back.
What?
Tom lowers his voice. “I know, the hire hasn’t been announced, but I heard it through the grapevine. I just have to say, I’m so proud of her. I knew she had it in her, but I’m glad shetook my advice. Everyone’s talking about it already. She’s going to be fantastic.”
I stare. “Oh.”
“I know the timing’s not ideal. But she’s got to do what’s best for her. You’ll make it work.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Anyway. Pass along my congrats, would you?”
My mouth is open, but no words come out.
I think my tongue may have just been ripped out with my heart.
Tom’s watch beeps, and he glances down. “Sorry, I’ve gotta head up. But please pass along my congrats to Caroline.”
I think my head lowers—because I can’t hold it up anymore—but Tom takes it as a nod. He gives me a quick wave and disappears.
I stand frozen, staring blankly ahead. My head’s no longer attached. My heart’s somewhere on the floor. There’s a buzzing in my ears. My mind flips through every memory of the last two months like flashcards on fire.
Tom gives me a quick wave and disappears. I stand frozen. There’s this buzzing in my ears. My mind flips through every memory of the last two months like flashcards on fire.
“Rhett?”
A hand touches my shoulder.
I flinch, spinning. Caroline stands in front of me—poised, composed, holding the microphone.
“You ready?”
I don’t answer.
The cameraman lifts the lens. His fingers start to count down. Five. Four.
Between three and two, she transforms. Lifts her chin. Paints on the smile. Puts her mask in place.
We’re no longerus.Not that I even know what that means anymore.
Now we are simply reporter and player.
