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“Well,” Jenna said when they met at the door. “At least there’s one rather selfish upside to this.”
“What?”
“We’ll probably get to see a lot more of Rich around the office again.”
“You think?” Lindsey glanced back at the screen, a queasy sensation tumbling around in her stomach. The camera followed Rich as he was led hopping from the arena, supported by his trainer and a medic. His face was pained, glistening with sweat. He didn’t look like a man who’d just won his first title fight. He looked…uncertain.
“I’m sure he’ll come home during his rehab,” Jenna said. “Mercer said he’s really close to his family.”
“Right. Yes.” The coverage had shifted to the next match, leaving Lindsey dangling, feeling too many conflicting things: dread and relief, fear and triumph. Pride. Worry. More emotions than she’d felt in the past month combined. The result of Rich’s injury? Partly. And the thought of him coming home.
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