CHAPTER SIX
RHETT
Day Three
Nora's conditions arrive at seven in the morning.
Tessa places the document in front of me in a private room at the team hotel.
Seven numbered clauses. No unscheduled contact.
No gifts. No public touching. No questions about reconciliation.
No using the children, the foundation, the team, or the press to influence her.
All communication through Tessa or Maren unless Nora initiates it.
At the end of thirty days, I sign whatever her attorney sends.
At the bottom, Maren has added a line in bold.
Compliance is not courtship.
Lucas reads it over my shoulder and whistles. "Your wife has excellent representation."
"Stop reading my legal documents."
"You left it faceup beside the coffee. That's practically a press release."
I sign every page.
Tessa takes the pen from me before I can damage it. "You understand that agreeing quickly does not earn points."
"I understand."
"And you will not announce that you agreed."
"I understand."
Lucas drops into the chair opposite me. "Do you understand?"
I look at him. "I can still trade you."
"Not personally. Also, you fired the guy who knew how."
For the first time in three days, something almost like laughter moves through the room. It dies before it reaches me.
The equipment drive begins at ten.
Bennett-Callahan Rink was once a condemned warehouse where rain leaked through the roof and rats owned the locker rooms. Nora saw possibility in it before anyone else did.
She photographed every crack, every rusted beam, every patch of warped boards.
Then she made a presentation so beautiful that donors forgot they were looking at ruin.
Today the lobby is packed with children carrying skates, sticks, helmets, and forms their parents filled out twice because they were afraid of making a mistake.
I arrive through the rear entrance to avoid the press line. Nora is already there.
She wears black trousers, a cream sweater, and her camera harness. No ring. Her hair is twisted up with a pencil. She is crouched beside a girl in an oversized purple coat, helping her lace a pair of used skates.
My body recognizes Nora before my mind can protect me. The angle of her neck. The concentration in her mouth. The small crease between her eyebrows that appears whenever she is solving a problem the rest of us have not noticed yet.
I stop six feet away.
Tessa touches my arm. "Clause one."
"I know."
Nora rises and looks at me.
For eighteen months, we became experts at communicating in rooms where no one could know. A glance meant meet me in the hallway. Two fingers against a glass meant I need to leave. Her hand over her heart meant I love you when she could not say it.
Now her face gives me nothing.
"Good morning," she says.
"Good morning."
Maren appears beside her like an armed witness. "Mr. Callahan."
"Maren."
"Your signature was legible. A promising start."
The girl in the purple coat looks between us. "Are you Captain Callahan?"
I crouch so we are level. "Depends. Are you here to steal my position?"
She considers me seriously. "I'm a goalie."
"Then you're after Reed's job. I support that."
Lucas, passing behind us with a box of helmets, says, "Treason. In my own charitable facility."
The girl smiles.
Nora lifts her camera. Then pauses.
Permission.
She has photographed me thousands of times, but this is the first time she asks without words whether I want to be seen.
I nod.
The shutter clicks.
The next two hours are controlled chaos.
We fit equipment, sign forms, carry boxes, and redirect reporters who keep trying to turn twelve-year-olds into witnesses for our marriage.
Nora and I remain on opposite sides of the rink until a delivery arrives with two hundred sticks and only one volunteer strong enough to move the racks.
She grabs one end.
I take the other.
"I have it," I say.
"So do I."
We carry it together.
A reporter raises his voice from behind the barrier. "Rhett, is this event an attempt to save your marriage?"
Nora's shoulders lock.
I set down the rack and face him.
"This event existed before my private failure became public entertainment," I say. "Ask about the children or leave."
"Is Nora divorcing you?"
"Leave."
Tessa signals security.
The reporter keeps shouting while he is escorted out. I do not look at Nora to see whether I did the right thing. Her approval cannot be the reason I behave decently.
At noon, we stand on the small stage for donor acknowledgments. The printed schedule says I am supposed to speak first.
I hand the microphone to Nora.
Her eyes narrow. "This wasn't discussed."
"It should have been."
I step back.
She looks at the crowd. For one second, I think she may refuse simply because the offer came from me.
Then she begins.
She talks about Eli. Not the polished version donors know, but the sixteen-year-old boy who shared one pair of skates with two teammates and learned to sharpen blades in exchange for ice time.
She talks about dignity, and how charity should never require a child to perform gratitude.
She explains that every piece of equipment is fitted privately and every family receives the same welcome whether they donate or need help.
The room belongs to her.
It always should have.
When she passes me the microphone, I say, "Nora Bennett created the heart of this foundation. My role was to follow her plan and write larger checks than she was comfortable requesting."
A few people laugh.
Nora does not.
I thank the volunteers and end the remarks in under a minute.
Afterward, a boy named Theo asks for both our autographs. He has missing front teeth and a Breakers cap pulled low over his eyes.
"Are you really married?" he asks.
The lobby goes quiet in the way crowded places do when everyone pretends not to listen.
Nora looks at me.
I let her answer first.
"Yes," she says.
Theo studies her bare hand. "Then where's your ring?"
His mother turns crimson. "Theo."
Nora kneels. "Sometimes grown-ups need time to decide what a ring means."
He thinks about that. "Did he lose yours? My dad loses everything."
A sound escapes Nora. Small, startled, almost a laugh.
I would give anything to hear it again. So I do not reach for it.
"I didn't lose it," I tell Theo. "I failed to treat it carefully."
Nora's gaze meets mine.
Theo nods as if I have confirmed a scouting report. "You should work on that."
"I am."
When the last family leaves, I find Nora beside the equipment room, checking inventory.
I stop beyond arm's reach.
"The security team will stay until you leave," I say. "That came from Elena, not me."
"Thank you for clarifying."
"I won't contact you tonight."
"That is also in the agreement."
"I know."
I should leave.
Instead, I say, "You were extraordinary up there."
Her expression closes. "Compliments are adjacent to gifts."
"No. A gift expects acceptance. The truth doesn't."
I walk away before I can ask her to keep it.
In the parking lot, Tessa catches up with me.
"That was almost mature," she says.
"High praise."
"Do you know what happens now?"
I look back at the rink doors.
"Nothing," I say. "She owes me nothing."
The words hurt.
They are also the first honest thing I have learned how to give her.