his eyebrows, his face losing all the tightness as though he knew where Gia was going, and the thought made him sick. “I wouldn’t ever…”
“Doesn’t matter what you meant or why you said it. You cursing at her, you not having your brand-new teammate’s back in front of assholes who already doubted her, just because she’s a woman? Doesn’t speak well for you as a leader. Doesn’t really make you look worthy to be captain, does it?” Gia stepped around to the front of the desk, staring right into Ryder’s eyes as she faced him. “Leaders lead. They set the example on that field, or in a club surrounded by their teammates. Both scenarios? You lead.” She closed her eyes, like she needed a pause because the tension had gotten too thick in the room. Then Gia continued. “Our fanbase is full of very traditional, very conservative good ole boys and girls who aren’t comfortable with change. But you know yourself, Ryder, change is here. You can either lead them through it, or you can get out of the way and let someone else do it.”
Gia slipped her gaze to the side, staring at Reese with a frown that made the woman feel wretched. “You’re paving a way. You’re breaking down doors. You better make sure that road you’re walking isn’t mucked up by shit you can’t let go of. There’s no room in this business for pettiness.”
With a jerk of her hand and a glare at the door, Gia dismissed her players, not bothering to bid them goodbye or tell them how disappointed in them she was. They knew, and Reese followed after Ryder with her gaze on the floor, feeling stupid and childish and very afraid that she’d fucked up beyond repair. What would her father say about this? What would the others think about her going toe-to-toe on day one with Ryder?
She was out of the office, returning the smile Cat offered, and almost to the elevator when Ryder called after her. She stopped, squaring her shoulders before she faced him, sure that he had no intention of listening to anything Gia said to him.
“That was cool, you having my back.” He shuffled his feet, looking up to Gia’s office door as he spoke, like the words came out with biting, searing pain.
“We’re teammates,” she supplied, figuring that was explanation enough. She wouldn’t say what she thought. She couldn’t and still keep her composure.
“This thing with us…” he started, hands in his pockets, attention on the empty hallway around them, anywhere but at Reese. “We’ve got to squash this…for the time being.”
“Squash it?” she asked, grunting when he nodded but wouldn’t look at her. “Ryder.” The name came out soft enough that the quarterback finally turned, moving his gaze to her mouth, then right at her eyes. He moved his eyebrows up as though he’d hadn’t expected her to ever speak his name that calmly again. His frown eased, and a confused, worried expression shifted over the smooth contours of his face.
“You want to pretend like we’re just teammates.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t anything more than Reese expressing her astonishment that he could forget the past so easily. They did have a job to do, but the past wasn’t exactly something that could be glossed over. They’d been through a battle of their own making. They’d both inflicted wounds that would likely never heal. “You’re telling me there’s nothing but the game between us now? After…everything?”
For a long time Ryder only watched her. His blue eyes were clear, but there was a puffiness around them that made Reese wonder if Ryder had made up for the bourbon he refused on his own. He still had an expressive face, eyes that were gentle; he’d always been the kind of man that looked right at you when he spoke, like you were the only person he had any interest in seeing at that moment. There was a cleft on his chin, and his jaw was square, the edges as sharp as a blade. He was handsome. He was talented, and once, Ryder Glenn had belonged completely to Reese.
But that was a long time ago. He no longer held her gaze and kept it. He seemed to no longer want it at all.
“Everything?” he asked, voice clipped. “There is no everything anymore.”
Reese couldn’t speak, but managed a nod. She wasn’t sure she trusted herself not to yell or cry or say what edged close to the tip of