He hasn’t played at all—not one down. He also doesn’t seem surprised by it. Because this is what Foller does—he messes with you, even in preseason. Josh might be emotional, but he doesn’t fall for the trap by showing those emotions today. He cheers from the bench. He makes pointers to our second-string center. He leads by example and with heart, and that’s all I think about as I hurry to hose myself off in the locker room so we can get back on the bus and fly home.

Well, I think about that and my wife waiting for me.

“Where is the Mrs.?” Nick asks, as I come out of the locker room freshly showered.

I toss my bag into one of the gear bins that will be loaded onto the plane. “She was busy.”

I look at my phone, trying not to panic when I find no messages from Parker. But I note the time. She’s probably still meeting with Cam and Abby.

“Come here, will you? Before you head out to the bus.” Nick puts a hand on my shoulder and guides me into the tunnel so we’re more out of sight. “Listen, I heard some things through the grapevine.”

“What’s that?”

“The League’s investigation of Foller was inconclusive.”

I don’t know why, but I feel oddly disappointed, considering I thought the investigation wasn’t necessary in the first place. But I don’t show that to Nick.

“I wasn’t really expecting it to show anything the team’s investigation didn’t already look into. But what does that mean?” I ask. “Everything goes back to how it was?”

Nick sighs. “Well, the League has basically said We wash our hands of this and that the Rebels have the right to proceed however they want.”

I run my tongue against the inside of my lip. “So they could fire him?”

“They probably won’t is my guess, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground. You never know what could pop up, but even then, abuse like this”—Nick shakes his head—“it’s hard to prove. You either believe it or you don’t.”

For the first time, I realize maybe I believed it all along. Maybe I just didn’t want to see it.

Nick claps my shoulder to wrap things up. “Either way, my message to you is the same. Don’t go out of your way for this guy. Not even a word out of your way.”

I press my lips together. “I’m supposed to sit down tomorrow with Foller and a reporter from The Boston Journal.”

Before he even takes his next breath, Nick is reaching for his inhaler. “I must’ve heard you wrong, right?”

“No.”

“Fitz!”

“You don’t need to whisper-yell at me!” I whisper-yell back.

Nick huffs. “Give me your phone.”

“What? Why?”