I don’t have a clue as to what he might ask, but after today—after a pocket of peace in what feels like a sea of chaos—I nod because I owe him more than I’ll ever be able to repay, even with my inheritance.

“Don’t wash that smile off your face,” Fitz tells me. “Happy is a good look on you.”

Chapter 14

“Where did you say we were going exactly?”

From the passenger seat, I watch Fitz’s eyes lift to the mirror, staring undoubtedly at the SUV that follows us. “I told you, I need to decompress.”

“Most people decompress over a pint of ice cream and a bottle of wine at home.”

Fitz lets out a heavy breath. “I think a lot there.”

“Just there?” I joke.

Fitz sticks out his tongue. “I’m serious. Hard to turn this off these days.”

He takes one hand off the wheel and taps his temple.

“Not a great feeling to have in the off-season,” Fitz continues. “Heard yesterday we’re losing our top defender. I can’t get him to stay. I can’t convince Foller to try to convince him⁠—”

“Foller?” I interrupt. “Why wouldn’t he want the guy?”

Fitz sighs. “Todd and Foller clash a lot. It happens, but you know, usually everyone takes a breath. But after the Super Bowl…I guess I can’t blame Todd.”

“What happened at the Super Bowl?”

By the time Fitz tells me the story, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve dropped my jaw. “Well, I’m with Todd. I’d walk away too.”

“Would you?” Fitz slows at a light.

“You wouldn’t?”

Fitz shrugs, turning to me. “It’s football. Things get heated.”

“Yeah, between players.” I watch as he folds his bottom lip in. “What kind of coach gets in his guy’s face like that?”

“One that won a Super Bowl.”

I lean toward Fitz. “You won a Super Bowl.”

Fitz looks away, and I can tell he doesn’t want to keep talking about it. Under normal circumstances, I’d press him a bit. But he did want to decompress and I’m sure this isn’t helping.

I straighten in my seat. “It’s hard having so much downtime.”

It’s not that I anticipated my help on the campaign being a full time job in any way. But my mother made it clear that where she went on the trail, I would follow. And that would kick off next week during a visit to New Hampshire. So apart from going to the barn, I don’t have a lot—or enough—on my plate.

I sigh. “I wouldn’t mind working.”