Seriously? He’d helped the kid carry an impossible Starbucks order ten blocks the day before. He sighed. “Come on, guys…”

“Sorry, Gus. We’re under strict orders to deliver you straight to Vern.”

Vern Orosco. His boss…and grandfather. The head of Sports Live Studios. The one man on earth Gus hated to disappoint. “I can walk,” he said, though he wasn’t sure he’d be walking in the direction of his grandfather’s forti-eth-floor corner office if they released him.

Barry, the older guard who’d worked at the station as long as Gus had been there, eyed him, assessing whether he could be trusted.

“Seriously, I’m cool.” Now. Five minutes ago, he’d been far from it. Not typically a hothead, his outburst on live television had shocked everyone, including himself.

Barry gave him a warning look. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Gus held up a Scout’s honor sign as best he could with his arms still restrained, and the two men released him. “Thank you,” he mumbled as his feet hit the floor. “I can make it from here.” This was embarrassing enough. Walking past all of the upper executive offices with security guard escorts would destroy him.

Darius, the younger, newer guard, hesitated. “If you bolt…”

Gus sighed. “Guys, I’m not going to bolt. I’m fine. And I need to face the music.”

Barry nodded, allowing him to continue on his own, but the two men stood at the end of the hallway, watching, just in case.

Unfortunately, there was no escape unless he wanted to jump from the fortieth-floor window at the end of the hall, crashing onto the busy Seattle city street below, but his downward spiral hadn’t quite reached that drastic point yet.

Though he might be close. The long walk along the studio hallway toward Vern’s office was like walking the green mile. On the walls on either side of him were framed photos of the best sports athletes in the world. He’d spent hours in that hall when he’d first gotten the job as co-reporter of the three o’clock sports news, a dream job working for his grandfather. A sports fanatic, playing every sport and watching every professional game from a young age, this was the only career he’d ever wanted. Growing up in small-town Alaska, watching his grandfather on the Seattle studio news set, where he’d been a reporter himself, Gus had been in awe of the older man. He’d visited every summer, and as soon as he’d graduated, he left Wild River and headed south. A university degree and four years of interning at the station, and he had his dream career.

Up until five minutes ago.

Now the eyes of the athletes seemed to follow him down the hall. Disappointment and judgment he couldn’t escape.

What the hell was he going to say to his grandfather?