81. Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-One
Kat
“Hi, Henry,” I said softly, really not wanting to have this conversation right now. But I’d already emailed Basti and Tim all the evidence I had that something suspicious was going on. So now, it was time. Before I got on the plane.
I sat down on an old ottoman in slightly outdated, mismatched fabric that was tucked behind a forgotten corner of the airport.
“I have something to tell you,” I started hesitantly. He paused. Waiting. I started wrapping one of my curls around my finger, then unwinding it, then wrapping it again. Ugh.
“I’m not going to be working with the team anymore,” I settled on, very quietly confessing what I’d done. Before he could respond, I tried to add the one thing that might help my case.
“But Corning is keeping the contract, and Allen will come out to finish the integration. He’s just as good as I am, and you’ll still have the software helping you guys this season,” I said hopefully. I heard him snort. That didn’t bode well. For me.
“Darling, no one is as good as you. And none of us give a bloody fuck about the software. We care about YOU,” he said vehemently. Well, that was just rude. It wasn’t like I hadn’t spent the last decade building software that would help keep him alive or anything.
“I care about the software,” I replied evenly. I care about YOU. And the software helps YOU, you infuriating man. I let the curl pop free of my finger again, bouncing back into its base state.
“I didn’t mean it that way, Kat. You know that. Now, you can’t have flown anywhere yet, or else you’d still be on the plane. Come home, we’ll figure this out,” he said like we weren’t in fucking Australia.
And I WAS going home.
To see my dad.
It had been too long since I’d checked on my house in Georgia.
“I don’t think there’s anything to figure out.
I figured it out already,” I said, trying my hardest not to cry on the phone with him.
He’d NEVER let me leave. I was already paranoid he’d show up here and drag me back kicking and screaming.
I wasn’t facing that misogynistic asshole Corning ever again.
“By giving up everything you’ve ever worked for? How is that figuring it out, Kat?” he asked sharply. I hadn’t told him that.
He already knew, then.
“Who told you?” I asked. My money was on Tam.
“Milo. And Bex and Tam,” he admitted. HA! I knew it. Fucking Tam. I shouldn’t have sent the signed paperwork until I was in the air.
“Well, you have to see why I did it. Why I didn’t fight back. It wouldn’t have helped,” I confessed honestly, looking down at my lap.
“Kat-“ he sighed, sounding like he was just getting started on a lecture. I cut him off.
“No, Henry. You don’t get to have an opinion on this.
Because you CAN’T understand how I feel right now.
I did what I had to do to prevent like twelve thousand people from losing their jobs, and a lot of companies from losing my software they so desperately need,” I said fiercely, a tear trickling down my cheek. I swiped it away.
“But Kat-“ he tried again. Absolutely not, sir.
“No, Henry,” I said softly. More tears fell.
“You don’t think I want to scream to the world that I didn’t get the contract because I was fucking you?” I said bluntly. I could HEAR that one land.
“That I’m not some callous heartbreaking sorceress? Or all the other things I can’t even say out loud to just myself right now? DO YOU?” I all but shouted, despite being in the airport. Not a soul was near me anyway. I didn’t give him time to answer.
“I saved SO many other people. Don’t you get it? That’s what I needed to do. And I did it. I swallowed every ounce of pride I had left and let my reputation be DESTROYED because it was worth it. Alright?” I asked, starting out fierce but losing steam halfway through.
“And you were just going to leave? Without telling me? Or saying bye?” he asked, his voice breaking on the last word. The tears fell faster. That was fair. And wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.
But there’s no crying in baseball.
“Henry, I could barely get myself packed and out the door. But what was I going to do? Would you have let me leave if I told you?” I asked, expecting an answer this time. Even if I already knew it.
Because I was psychic, motherfucker.
Or maybe I just knew him really well.
“No, Kat! No, I wouldn’t have let you leave!
Even if you were leaving the team, you didn’t need to leave ME,” he insisted.
But he WAS the team. He WAS there every damn day.
If I didn’t leave, I would’ve been… what?
Hanging out at the track every day but not in the paddock because fuck that? Alone all day, nothing to do?
I wasn’t that woman.
I would go make a difference somewhere, instead of fading into obscurity slowly, doing nothing here.
I would CHOOSE obscurity instead. It’s what I wanted, anyway. Not being recognized from the internet and having soda and names thrown at me simultaneously.
I’d taken too long to respond. Because I didn’t really know what to say.
“Well, your silence speaks volumes, Kat,” he said bitterly. “How can you keep me from throat punching doctors if you’re not on the same continent as me?” he asked, sounding young, vulnerable. I felt the tears dripping off my chin onto my sling, my nose running super attractively.
“I’m sure Milo can help you,” I whispered softly. He didn’t say anything. But he scoffed at me. We both knew Milo wouldn’t be able to do shit except maybe get THROWN at the doctors.
“Well, then. I guess… goodbye, Henry,” I all but sobbed into the phone.
“Kat, don’t do this,” he begged. I had to. I HAD to.
“I have to,” I said, choking on another sob. “Please tell me goodbye,” I pleaded quietly.
“No.”
“Okay then.”
Click.