“Mr. Morgan,” I call out, jogging to meet up with him. “Sir.” He stops, turning on his dress shoes, his pressed suit perfectly in place. “I apologize if what I said in there causes the organization any grief.” He shakes his head, confused. “I know that’s not really on brand for me to admit those things, but—” “Thank God you finally did.” He laughs. “That’s the Ryan Shay I’ve been wanting people to see all these years. That’s the Ryan Shay I scouted out of college. It’s good to see him again.” He smacks my shoulder, turning down the hall again. “Are you trading me if we lose tonight?” I call
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