“Come on, dude.” I stop walking and turn to face him, ignoring the not-so-nice words the man behind me mutters as he passes by. “You have to know what you look like. On top of that, you’re the starting quarterback for a professional team. So you’re young, famous, rich, handsome, and occasionally not a jerk.” I tick off my fingers one by one. “There’s a lot of people who would love the chance to try and shoot their shot.”

He mumbles something beneath his breath that I don’t quite catch and starts to walk again. His strides are long and measured, but his shoulders are slumped and his spine is bowed. It’s like he’s trying to curl into himself. By itself, that’s concerning body language, but from the ever confident Quinton Howard Junior? It’s downright alarming.

“Hey!” I call after him and try to pick up my pace. But he’s moving really fast and his legs are a lot longer than mine, so this really isn’t fair. “Wait for me!”

He doesn’t answer, but he does slow his steps until I reach him again. And I’ll take what I can get.

“Are you okay? I missed what you said before you walked away,” I ask when I’ve caught up, only slightly out of breath.

“I didn’t say anything.”

He ignores my question about whether or not he’s okay, but after spending the time I have with him, I know he can be short with words. Most of the time, I’d brush this off as him being a dismissive asshole again. But something is wrong. I can see it in the way his throat is working, as if he wants to say something, but the words are stuck . . . threatening to choke him.

And it’s something I recognize. I know all too well what it looks like to pretend everything is fine when in reality, you’re in so much pain you don’t know which way is up or down anymore.

Brynn’s parting words from the bathroom run through my head again. Maybe I don’t know what this man is going through. And it is my job to find out. So instead of ignoring him and hopping in my car that’s finally come into view, I make a new plan.

“Hey.” I rest a hand on his forearm to stop him, ignoring the jolt of electricity that flows through my fingertips at the feeling of his skin. It somehow feels even smoother than it looks. “I’m actually starving right now and there are still a few little things I’d like to discuss with you about the event. I know you have to be at the team’s hotel later, but would you want to grab some lunch and go over everything with me?”

“Um, yeah.” He glances down at his Apple Watch. “I have time for lunch.”