Page 157 of Red Zone
I shake my head. “Megan, I—I’ve never?—”
“I’m not saying it’s intentional,” she interrupts gently. “But perception matters. And the perception right now is that you’re giving extra attention to some while neglecting others.”
Heat creeps up my neck, my ears burning. “Who—” I stop myself before asking who said it.
Because it doesn’t matter.
It shouldn’t matter.
I swallow hard and try to keep my voice level. “I didn’t realize anyone felt that way. I try to split my time fairly. I check in with everyone weekly, I update stats, I feature different players on rotation?—”
Megan’s expression softens, but she holds firm. “I know. You’re good at what you do, Lyla.
You’re detail-oriented, you’re creative, and you care. That’s obvious. But this is a team. Every player wants to feel like they matter. Even if they’re not in the spotlight as much as some of the others.”
Some of the others.
It doesn’t take a genius to know who she means.
Carter.
I feel the weight of his name in my chest, even though she hasn’t said it.
My mind spins back through all the late nights I’ve spent tweaking his campaigns, analyzing his engagement metrics, coordinating his NIL meetings. How many times he’s stopped by my desk with that infuriating grin, teasing and charming and impossible to ignore.
But I’ve never once given him more than any of the other athletes I’ve been assigned. I don’t even know who would suggest that. They’ve all had brand offers, even though some haven’t been in alignment with their brand and they’ve passed.
I force a shaky breath. “I understand. I’ll…I’ll make adjustments. I’ll make sure the team knows I’m available to everyone equally.”
Megan nods. “Good. That’s all I wanted to hear. I know you can handle this. You’ve got a bright future in this field—don’t let little things like this trip you up.”
“Of course,” I murmur, standing.
As I leave her office, my tablet still clutched in my hands, my cheeks feel hot and my stomach churns.
The second I shut Megan’s door behind me, I exhale through my nose and force my shoulders back.
Act normal.
No one else needs to know how close I am to crumbling.
The office hallway is quiet this time of afternoon, most people either on calls or down at the field. I keep my head down and focus on the exit, already planning what I’ll say to myself on the walk home— It’s fine, Lyla. You can fix this. Just…fix it.
I’m halfway down the hall when a familiar laugh freezes me in place.
Carter.
He’s leaning against the wall by the water cooler, his hat backward, his tanned arms crossed, chatting with one of the trainers. His ocean eyes catch on me instantly, and the grin he was wearing falters just slightly before he pushes off the wall.
“Hey,” he calls casually, like we’re just two people passing each other on any other day.
I force a smile that feels brittle around the edges. “Hey.”
“Everything okay?” He tilts his head, studying me as he falls into step beside me. “You look…tense. More tense than usual, I mean.”
I roll my eyes, hoping the joke buys me a little cover. “Thanks, Hayes. Always a charmer.”
But he doesn’t laugh. His hand hovers near the small of my back like he might actually touch me, and that alone sends my pulse skittering.
