Page 90 of Forbidden Forward

“The … what?”

I still haven’t seen the letter myself, so I explain the gist of it from what little I know.

“I didn’t know we’d sent a letter like that.” His puzzlement is clear.

“Maybe you weren’t brought into the loop?”

“Possible, but as your former boss, not likely. I’d like to take a look at it. Is there any way you can get your hands on a copy?”

“Doubtful. Would you be willing to check with Legal on your end?”

“I can do that,” he affirms. “I don’t think they’ll allow me to share it with you, though.”

“I’m less concerned about what it says than I am about if it exists at all.”

The silence is deafening. “You think your current employer made it up?”

“No, I think they have the letter. What I’m trying to find out is whether it actually came from Roscoe.”

I can practically hear him blinking from the opposite coast. “Who else would send something like that?”

“Someone trying to set me up.” I probably sound like I’ve lost my mind, and I brace myself for him cutting me off.

Jeff surprises me when he growls, “I never did like how that whole thing with Montgomery went down. I know what you’re probably thinking—that I helped build the case against you, but I was under a tremendous amount of pressure. And didn’t have the whole story. When the dust finally settled and his culpability came to light … Let’s just say it didn’t sit right with me. Still doesn’t.”

Compared to my entire life being flipped upside down, the “pressure” he was under seems trivial. I hold back my indignation, though, because I need an ally—even a reluctant one. “So you’ll look into it?” Hope threads through my voice.

“I’ll see what I can find out,” he agrees. “I’m heading out of town for a long weekend, but I’ll dig around when I’m back next week.”

My spirits lift when we end the call. It’s not much, but right now his willingness is the only lifeline I’ve got, and I’m hanging on until it snaps loose.

Colby

I STARE WISTFULLY AT the columns of numbers on the elevator buttons, fastening on twenty-eight before giving twenty-one a hard jab. I’m no longer tempted to go up there and come clean with her brother. I don’t deserve her anyway. Not now.

I’m dying to find out how she’s doing, especially with all the job shit she’s dealing with. I’m torn between reaching out and staying the hell out of her life. Once more, option two wins out.

But damn, I miss her so fucking much my gut aches.

Back in my condo, I drop the shopping bags full of groceries on my kitchen counter. My phone rings, and I swipe to answer. “Hey, Herb.”

“Hiya, buttercup. Got a minute?”

“For you? Of course.” I start emptying the bags and putting away the food.

“Hearing some more rumblings from a few teams and I thought I should give you a heads-up so you can be thinking about where you’d like to go—if the Surge doesn’t renew your contract and you end up with your pick of teams.”

“You’ve been hearing rumblings for a while,” I point out.

“Not as serious as these.” He fills me in on four teams interested in what I bring. Two possibilities don’t sound too awful, and I file them away.

“And if management decides to trade you before free agency kicks in,” he continues, “I’d like to have an idea where you want to go so I can try to steer in that direction.”

“I appreciate that.”

“It’s what you pay me for,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Have you heard anything from the Surge about extending my contract?”