1. Lucia

Lucia Moretti could attest to the fact that bad news—horrific news—did not, in fact, come in threes. At least not for her, not in all of her twenty-seven years. Not when she’d been eight and her father had told her that her mother had left them and wasn’t planning on coming back without even the courtesy of a note. Not when she’d been thirteen and her first and only pet, a sweet yellow lab who’d been like a sister to her, had gotten sick suddenly and died. And certainly not now, at twenty-seven, when the person she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with was caught cheating. By paparazzi. On the eve of their anniversary.

Okay, scratch that. Maybe bad news did come in threes.

Why The Richmond Herald chose her for such public humiliation that August afternoon, she couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was karma for all the times she’d taken an extra snack from the campus dining halls in college. Or maybe this was the universe’s retribution for all the times she’d done a California stop at Virginia stop signs.

Whatever she may have done was unimportant because, there, below a headline that read, “Interception! Vipers QB Caught Passing to the Wrong Woman”, was a picture of her intended kissing a woman with blonde hair. And, as if the message wasn’t clear enough, beside that was a picture of Lucia with very messy brown hair—couldn’t they have used a better picture of her, at least?—holding a clipboard, her ring finger and ring on full display.

“They could’ve warned you before they posted this,” her best friend hissed over speakerphone, breaking the stunned silence that’d fallen over their collective stupor. Isa’s accent sharpened around the angriest word, as if The Richmond Herald cared about anything besides sales.

Lucia was still too shocked to speak. Her eyes scanned over every inch of the photo, falling to the clothing he was sporting. Were those his clothes from last weekend? That looked like what he’d worn to brunch on Sunday. The brunch he’d told her was with the guys. With the team. Was he really so stupid? Had he genuinely thought this wouldn’t get back to her? He was a nationally recognized sports player, for Pete’s sake.

Her back was still pressed against the concrete of the Virginia Vipers’ offices when Isa, voice calmer and tinged with worry, spoke again. “Luc? Are you still at work?” Again, no answer as Lucia’s eyes marked where Max’s hands were in the photo. “I’m coming to pick you up, hang tight.”

Isa”s Camry rolled into the parking lot fifteen minutes later, but it felt like only seconds had passed for Lucia. Isa didn’t bother to turn down the unintelligible rock music or roll her windows up as she rounded the car and walked toward Lucia.

“Come, mi cielo. Let’s go to my apartment. Come, come,” she said as if coaxing a small child into eating their vegetables. She held the door open as Lucia slid into the passenger seat, cringing at the sounds of Isa’s “Rage” playlist, courtesy of her girlfriend.

“Have you eaten anything? Abby just went to Trader Joe’s. We have all the cheese and crackers you could ever need.” She was kind enough to lower the volume of the music, though Lucia knew it was for her benefit alone and had nothing to do with the glares from the people milling about the facility and offices.

“Luc?” Isa pleaded tentatively when they reached a stoplight.

She’d struggled to string together a coherent sentence, but Isa’s presence was like a comforting hug, shaking the words loose.

Finally, “It’s so on brand, isn’t it?”

Isa just blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this is par for the course with me. Standard. Expected. Classic.”

“I’m still not quite sure I follow,” Isa said slowly.

Lucia hardly heard her as she began analyzing every interaction she’d had with Max in the previous few months. Nothing had seemed off, but they had both been so busy gearing up for preseason that it would’ve gone unnoticed either way.

“He’s going to find a way to blame me. You know it. He’s going to say I was working too much, that I wasn’t being attentive enough.”

Isa muttered a string of Spanish curses. “He’s not getting away with it this time. I’m going to chop his itty-bitty, limp dick right off.” She grinned, pleased with herself. She pulled into the alley behind her apartment, diagonally parking in a space that was most definitely meant for straight parking.

Lucia followed her like a zombie up to the third floor and into her apartment, slipping her heels off by the entryway.

“So, how are we ruining his life? Keying his four ridiculously overpriced cars? Setting his hair on fire?” Isa’s words were muffled through the half-closed pantry door. Too numb to respond to Isa’s attempt to console her, Lucia padded to the table adjacent to the kitchen, pulling her laptop out of her purse and typing in the headline that was branded on her brain.

Did she know the woman? She didn’t look familiar, but it was hard to tell with Max’s tongue lolling around in the woman’s mouth. Her throat constricted as she thought of the house they shared. The house she’d turned into a home over the course of two years.

Lucia didn’t notice Abby coming out of the bedroom but felt arms wrap around her shoulders. “Hey, Luc, sweetie.” A quick, reassuring squeeze, and then Abby placed a tray down and helped Isa set up the crackers and cheese.

Isa took her extended silence as grief. “I know you’re not much of a crier, but you’re allowed to mourn, osita. Seven years is a long time.” More than a quarter of her life, to be exact.

And what a waste.

“I’m fine.” At her friends’ disbelieving stares, she continued, “Or, I will be. I just—” She sighed, exasperated, closing the laptop. “I thought I’d be on the ground sobbing, you know? Lying down in the shower for an hour, listening to Billie Eilish, crying until dehydration overtook me, and all I could do was stare blankly at the tub. Instead…” She shrugged.

She didn’t want to divulge more, didn’t want that half-confused, half-sympathetic look as she explained that, instead of grief, she just felt angry. Angry that he’d cheated on her despite everything she’d done for him. Angry that it’d come out publicly, leaving her humiliated.

She’d had so many firsts with Max. He’d been there for practically all of her adulthood, or at least the parts that counted. She’d followed him from California to Virginia. Yeah, the job she’d been offered was a dream, but she’d said yes because he was the Vipers’ quarterback. The monster that was betrayal licked its way up her spine.

They’d done long-distance for the three years before she’d joined him in Virginia, and now she worried what exactly he’d been doing when they”d been apart. There had been times that she didn’t hear from him for a few days, and while she’d always chalked it up to him being busy with football, now she couldn’t be so sure. Had he been cheating on her the entire time? Could she really be certain that this was an isolated event? Had she been so blind that she’d missed the red flags all these years?

Isa and Abby guided her onto the couch, the long tray of food balanced across their laps. Isa turned on an old episode of The Bachelor, knowing Lucia found comfort in the arms of reality television.

During the third commercial break, Isa set the tray down and turned toward her.

“Real talk, what’s our plan?” Isa exchanged a look with Abby, silent communication coursing between them, before continuing, “We’ll obviously help you pack up your stuff, and you can stay with us until you find a place. But you just say the word, and I’ll key his cars, smash his windows and tail lights. Anything. Just tell me what you need.”

Lucia slipped her hand into Isa’s as Abby excused herself and went into their bedroom. Isa had been Lucia’s best friend since their freshman year of college when they’d floundered through an English literature class together. She’d held Lucia together many times as she’d struggled through her advanced computer-science classes. While Lucia had moved around the country working with different teams, Isa got her master’s degree and then followed her to Richmond. Her anchor, her rock. Now they worked together for the Vipers, Lucia as an analyst and Isa as an athletic trainer.

“I think…I need to take some more time to process, but I think packing up and moving when he’s away would be best. I worry that if I see him, he’ll convince me to stay. Or that I’ll ask him for all the sordid details.” Self-sabotage had always been her favorite form of torture.

“We’ll go when he’s at lift or practice. Charlotte will completely understand,” Isa said, referencing Lucia’s boss. “Do you think…” She stumbled a bit. “Do you think you’ll stay with the Vipers?”

Lucia hadn’t even thought about her job. Over the past two years, the Vipers’ offices and training facility had become a second home for her. Richmond, a place she never would’ve seen herself enjoying, had suddenly become the place where she could picture raising children. And her job? Her absolute dream job? She couldn’t imagine leaving it.

She rested her head on Isa’s shoulder, too exhausted to respond.

“I’d go to war for you, you know,” Isa murmured.

Lucia just squeezed her hand.

Lucia felt eyes following her everywhere she went, from the streets of Richmond, to the training facility, and into her office. It made her skin crawl. Those who were brave enough came up to her and apologized, which only made her feel worse. All it did was remind her of the fact that the affair and inevitable breakup were entirely public knowledge. She’d never minded being in the spotlight, but to be humiliated so publicly felt like more of a violation than usual.

Her phone buzzed for the fifteenth time in five minutes—whether from Max trying to get her to come home and listen to his thousands of excuses, or from journalists hunting her down for an exclusive, she couldn’t be sure. If she caught one more sympathetic glance, she was going to take a baseball bat to the glass-encased trophies and accolades of the Vipers franchise.

Or not.

But the thought of it was certainly cathartic.

Apparently, spending the night on Isa’s couch had imbued her with the same vicious fantasies of retribution as her closest friend. Maybe she’d have to crank up that rock playlist Abby had created.

The intact (for now) glass reflected the now-perpetual crease between her brows. She grimaced at the shortness of the skirt she’d borrowed from Isa, and the woman before her grimaced right back. Charlotte was very forgiving, and Lucia hoped she could look past this transgression just this once. Just while she figured out how best to pack up her entire life during Thursday practice.

All she wanted was to get back to her work. She wanted to disappear for the next fifteen hours, crunching numbers and watching film in her not-so-spacious office. Instead, her brain kept getting sidetracked by the whispers, louder than if her colleagues had been speaking directly into her ear. She’d hoped to find solace in Charlotte’s office, but the door had been closed. It was a sure sign John, the general manager, had something important he needed one of the analysts to work on as soon as inhumanly possible. She hoped the task would be assigned to her so she could finally pay attention to the voice in her head telling her to put her headphones on and stop listening to the unending gossip that threatened to swallow her whole.

She’d been right. When the door opened, John gave her the smallest of nods.

“Lucia.” He pronounced her name wrong, the c of her name coming out like an s rather than a ch, but she couldn’t complain since she hadn’t even expected him to know her name at all. Before she could process that fact, he’d disappeared down the hall, no doubt headed to the beautiful penthouse office he spent most of his time in. Charlotte stopped at the doorway, a momentary panic sweeping across her face. She waved a frowning Lucia in.

“Good morning, Lucia.” Charlotte closed the door gently behind her, Lucia’s frown becoming more pronounced.

This was new. Charlotte never had closed-door meetings with the analysts, besides for their annual reviews. Bile rose hot and fast in Lucia’s throat, her body already beginning to decipher the look on her boss’s face.

“Have a seat, please.”

“Uh, why are you being so formal? Are you…” Lucia let out a disbelieving laugh. “Are you firing me?”

She’d meant it as a joke, but Charlotte’s silence was answer enough. Lucia lurched toward the trash can beside her boss’s desk and heaved. The fact that she’d hardly eaten anything that morning was clear as Charlotte ran over to hold her hair and rub her back, making soothing noises.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” When she noticed Lucia was no longer heaving but also not moving from the trash, she grabbed a water bottle from her mini fridge and forced it into Lucia’s hand. “Drink this and sit, please. I promise it’s not all bad news.”

When Lucia felt more stable, she followed Charlotte’s directions and sat, refusing to make eye contact. Charlotte clicked her mouse a few times and then clasped her hands together, laying them on her large, walnut desk.

“As you saw, John was just talking my ear off. He was telling me that he believes your…situation, for lack of a better word, might cause issues with his—”

“Is this about Max?”

“Star quarterback.”

“You can’t be serious. Max cheats on me, and I get punished?”

It was so like this profession to penalize the woman in this situation. Why should her personal life have had any bearing on her career? Especially when said personal life involved her being a victim?

At least the apologetic look Charlotte gave her was sincere. “I’m so sorry, Lucia. You know you’re my best analyst by far. Hell, with your qualifications, you should be my boss. But unfortunately, my hands are tied. I tried to convince him that you’d be mature about”—she waved her hand—“everything. But he was firm.”

Tears were welling in Lucia’s eyes, and she wasn’t sure she could keep them from falling. How was this fair? She hadn’t done anything wrong. She was a hard worker. She’d put in more hours than any of the other analysts, and, as Charlotte had said, she was one of the strongest analysts in the franchise. Maybe even the league.

“This job is—you have to understand, it’s all I have right now. I—I don’t know what I’d do without it.” Her pride was fighting a losing battle against blubbering, and she thought about dropping to her knees and begging.

“He’s very insistent that Max Clark remains at peak performance. But I thought this might happen, so I put out some feelers yesterday when I saw the news.” She paused, something dawning on her face. “I’m sorry, by the way. I haven’t said that yet, but I was so very sorry to see…that.”

Charlotte’s figure doubled in Lucia’s eyes as the tears bubbled over. Charlotte handed her a tissue before turning her monitor to face Lucia.

“Like I said, I put out some feelers. I thought John might pull something like this. Clark is his everything and can do no wrong. But you’re very highly sought after, too. And while most teams don’t have the bandwidth or budget, they’re all well aware that you developed GameFlow Analytics and are falling all over themselves to move money around.”

Lucia let out a pathetic sniffle, wiping her eyes angrily. She hated looking weak. One more reason for her to hate Max.

GameFlow Analytics was a software she’d begun developing in her senior year of college, though it hadn’t been complete until right before she’d joined the Vipers. She’d patented the software which, at its most basic level, integrated live game data and used machine learning to offer recommendations in real-time. Selling it to the NFL had skyrocketed her stock in the analytics market greatly.

During the three years she and Max had spent apart between college and her move to Richmond, she’d been bouncing from team to team, doing general analytics and starting her career with team quarterbacks. When she’d finally gotten the kinks out of GameFlow Analytics, she’d breathed a sigh of relief, because she knew it meant she’d have a higher chance of getting a job in Virginia with Max. After the sale, she’d had offers from all over the country but had chosen to go to the Vipers. For the prick.

“At the moment, only the Sabertooths have been able to find money to take you on, and they’re offering quite a raise if you join them. You’d be doing general analytics, just like here, and they’d also like you to continue working on your quarterback software while you assist their quarterback. Apparently, despite their Super Bowl win last year, he’s been struggling through preseason.”

It only took Lucia a moment to remember the arrogant asshole at the helm of the Charleston Sabertooths. Her whole body went rigid. “Not Colton Beaumont. Tell me it’s not Colton fucking Beaumont.”

Charlotte turned the monitor back, seeming to realize Lucia was uninterested in looking at the email on the screen. “It’s either you take the Sabers up on their offer today before I can formally fire you, and you can say you resigned for a better position”—Charlotte grimaced, apologetic— “or I’m forced to fire you, and the offer potentially comes off the table.”

Lucia would have almost rather been fired. Almost.

Max may have stripped her of her pride, but he wouldn’t take away everything that she’d worked so hard for. She would take the job, even if it meant helping someone she detested.