Chapter Fifteen

WHILE DREW WAS doing battle on the turf in Dallas, Kendall staked out a place on the Miners sidelines at Lambeau Field and patted her coat pocket to make sure she still had her phone. Green Bay was known for cold. Today was no exception. It was mid-October, snow flurries were predicted, and she was already freezing her ass off.

She didn’t want to be here today, but she was still employed by the Miners. She was somewhat amused by the questions she’d received in team press conferences this week about the fact the team had stepped up their search for a GM candidate. Considering the fact she’d told them to do so, it wasn’t news to her. There were also leaks from within the Miners organization. The censored version of her colleagues’ remarks to her during their discussion brought an on-site surprise visit from the league commissioner two days ago. If things were bad before, they’d officially hit rock bottom after a few of her colleagues were told the league was opening an official investigation. There would be hell to pay.

After working hard for the past sixteen years to attain a front office position she enjoyed, she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay with the Miners in any capacity. She knew that other teams around the league had been dragged into the twenty-first century by the fact women now made up forty-eight percent of the league’s fan base, but the Miners’ front office was resisting this fact with every weapon at their disposal. She hadn’t seen anything like this until she was welcomed into the front office group. A woman in their ranks was obviously more threatening than she had ever imagined. She expected opposition to being the first female executive on their org chart, but she didn’t have to take blatant disrespect and disregard for federal employment laws.

Kendall had made the trip on her own this weekend. Sydney was back in the San Francisco area getting ready for her finals. Drew wasn’t available by phone right now. She could call one of her girlfriends and whine about her situation, but her friends had their own problems. Hers seemed small in comparison to dealing with husbands, young children, and making ends meet when there was more month than money.

She tugged the hood on her Miners-logo fleece jacket up once more and stamped her feet a few times, hoping the blood moving would bring a little warmth. She felt her phone vibrating but didn’t pull it out of her pocket. Seconds later, she felt it vibrating again. She pulled it out and stared at the text on the screen.

DREW IS INJURED. HE’S ON HIS WAY TO THE HOSPITAL IN DALLAS. CALL ME. SYDNEY

Kendall’s stomach dropped, and she felt a surge of adrenaline seconds afterward. She turned and ran into the tunnel the Miners emerged from. Hopefully she’d have some cell bars and even a bit of privacy in here. She held her phone up, twirled around a few times, and realized it was fruitless. No bars. She’d have to get outside again to find cell coverage, and the only way she’d get any solitude for a conversation was to walk out of the stadium and stand on the sidewalk. She was wearing an all-access badge, but stadium security would be less than interested in re-admitting anyone who left the stadium and tried to come back in.

Drew was hurt. The fact he was on his way to the hospital was even worse. If it was something minor, the team would use the on-site X-ray machine in Dallas and patch him up when he got back to Seattle. She darted through the tunnel on her way to the elevators. She needed a place to make a phone call. The fans were in their seats. The media was in the press box. The elevators were deserted as a result.

The media was in the press box. She hit the button for that floor and prayed. If anyone in this stadium had cell and Internet access, it was them. They also had information from every game being played in the league. The elevator stopped minutes later, and she got out. She spied Paul Smith leaning against the wall outside of the press box door, using his smart phone. Paul had been reporting on pro football for twenty years now. Besides being excellent at his job, he’d always been friendly and cooperative when he’d chatted with her for a column or an exclusive on the Miners. She hurried over to him.

“Paul, do you have a minute?”

He grinned at her. “Sure, Kendall. What’s up?”

“Do you have any more information about Drew McCoy’s injury in Dallas today?”

He glanced at his smart phone again and shook his head. “The preliminary stuff I’m seeing on Twitter right now from the game states the team is afraid it’s a labrum tear with rotator cuff involvement. They’ll know more after he’s at the hospital.”

“My assistant texted me.” She held up her phone. He gave her a nod.

“I’m guessing Drew’s not answering his phone right now.”

She let out a breath. “Nope.”

Paul reached out to pat her upper arm. “You realize you just told me the rumors of personal involvement between you and McCoy are true.”

She swallowed hard and gave him a nod. “I’m guessing it’s too late to say this isn’t on the record.” She clasped her arms behind her. “Is it too late to make a deal?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Off the record source information instead?” she said.

Every sportswriter covering professional football was dying for a credible source that would discuss this past week’s fireworks in the Miners’ front office. The Miners’ owner had threatened the job of anyone found to have divulged information. Sometimes it was good to have nothing to lose.

“You’re on,” he said. She reached out to shake his hand. “Let’s see what else we can find out about McCoy until someone at the hospital answers their damn phone, shall we?”

Kendall called Sydney back. “I’m getting some more info. Thank you for the text.”

“You’re welcome,” Sydney said. “Do you need me to get you a plane ticket?”

“They’ll bring him back to Seattle as soon as they can get him released. Maybe I should go there instead.” Imagining how much pain Drew had to be in made her want to cry. Even worse, if the reports Paul was getting were accurate, Drew’s pro football career might be over.

She needed to get to him. First, though, she needed to handle a few things with the Miners.

DREW FLEW BACK to Seattle the next day with Coach Stewart in the Sharks’ owner’s private jet. He was still under the influence of hospital-grade pharmaceuticals, but he’d seen the X-rays and the results of the MRI he’d had late last night. It didn’t look good for his shoulder or for his future career.

The coach spent most of the plane ride watching game film. Head coaches were expected to keep a distance of sorts from their players so they could dispassionately deliver bad news. Coach Stewart must have been of the opinion that management style was stupid.

“We’ll be home in a few hours, McCoy.” He glanced over at Drew. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Need more pain meds?”

Drew managed to crack a smile. “I’m good. Maybe I should try to take a nap or something.”

“That’s always a great idea. Plus, you’ll want to be rested for your welcoming committee,” the coach joked. The “welcoming committee” would consist of whoever was taking him for yet another MRI and more testing.

Drew’s phone was in the garment bag that had been stowed in the luggage hold by a Sharks employee. He’d talked with his mom a little last night from the hospital. Her employers were nice enough to give her a couple of weeks off so she could take care of him post-surgery. She’d be at his house when he got home later, but he hadn’t been able to text Kendall yet. He wasn’t allowed the use of his cell phone in the hospital room. He knew she had her own problems, but he needed her. She probably couldn’t leave work for a day right now. He got that she loved her job. He loved his job too. If he really wanted to make a relationship endure between them, though, they would have to discuss how to handle each other’s schedules.