Page 171 of Red Zone
“You…put all this together?” I ask, my voice low.
She gives the faintest little nod. “I thought it might be a better fit than just another athletic wear brand or energy drink.”
I lean back in my chair, staring at the paper without really seeing it.
It’s not anger that hits me. Not even close.
It’s…shock.
That she would go out of her way like this.
That she’d think of me like this.
That she’d notice what Christmas meant to me—what giving back to those kids really did for me.
Nobody’s ever seen that part of me before.
Hell, I didn’t even think she noticed that day.
But here she is.
Her fingers are still folded in front of her, her voice soft when she adds, “If you’re not ready to tell your story publicly yet, I completely understand. But if you are…I think this could really matter. To you. To them. To everyone watching.”
I just stare at her for another long second, my chest tight.
I stare at the page she slid across the table, but I’m not really seeing the words anymore.
I’m seeing her.
The way she’s watching me now—quiet, almost nervous. Like she’s bracing herself for me to shoot her down.
And it hits me all at once—how much she cares.
Not just about her job. Not just about keeping her little planner perfectly filled and her athletes perfectly polished.
She cares about me.
Enough to notice what giving back meant to me, even when I thought nobody was paying attention. Enough to use her own time to find something that would actually mean something tome. Enough to give me the choice of whether to share my story or not—without judgment, without pressure.
That kind of thing…nobody’s ever done that for me before.
My chest feels tight, and I swallow hard, dragging my thumb along the edge of the paper.
And then this other feeling creeps in, quiet at first, but sharp enough that I can’t ignore it.
The way she makes my chest ache when she smiles.
The way my heart drops every time she pulls away from me now.
The way, even when we’re tense like this, she’s still the only one who makes me feel like I’m seen.
It startles me.
Because I’ve never felt it before.
Not like this.
Not this deep, not this sharp.
