I’m on the train on the way back to my apartment, trying not to scream in frustration, and thus, look like a nut. I’m already sitting with my arms crossed over my chest, scowling. I probably look like I could murder someone, since everyone else on the train is cutting me a wide berth. When the train door opens at my stop in Old Town and I head down the steps to my condo, I feel my phone start to buzz. I pull it out of my bag and see it’s Lou, Adam’s trainer.

“Not in the mood, Lou,” I say when I answer.

“Hold on, Kylie. Let me explain for a minute,” he answers in a panic.

“Listen, Lou. I’ve met guys like Adam before. If he’s going to be his own worst enemy, I’m not sure what I can do for him.” I stop at the bottom of the stairs and wait for Lou to say something. There is a long pause, and finally he sighs.

“There is really nothing I can say. But can you do me just one favor?”

I lean back against the entrance to the L and wait. “And what is the favor?”

“Can you just go to Adam’s place? He thinks he’s clever and good at hiding things, but he’s not. He went home and I think you’ll get answers to all of your questions if you talk to him at home.”

I don’t want to. I want to go back to my place and change into those pajamas. Actually eat dinner then take a nice, long bath. At the same time, I also know that I’d rather not go into work tomorrow with nothing to show for this meeting but Adam’s place of birth and the angry mice I was doodling in my notebook.

“All right. Fine. Where does he live?”

“Let me give you his address. He lives over the movie theater in Logan Square.”

I groan and stomp my foot. “Seriously, Lou? Do you have any idea how long… Never mind. Just give me the address.”

* * *

As expected, the L took forever. Plus I had to change trains, so it takes me over an hour to get to Adam’s. I’m standing in front of the movie theater, looking for a way to get into the apartments above, when I see a woman come out of a door next to the box office. I run over and quickly grab the door before it can shut, then I check the mailboxes to see which place is Adam’s. I finally find him, and raise my eyebrows when I see “The Burnhams” with three little hearts next to the name, over the mailbox for Apartment 4G.

That implies plural. I thought he said he wasn’t married? Girlfriend, maybe? I think as I walk into the vintage elevator with a manual gate. When it grinds to a stop on the fourth floor, the door opens to a much sunnier, lovelier hallway than I expected. For whatever reason, I was prepared for either a dump or one of those obnoxiously masculine places with chrome and steel everywhere.

I knock on the door for 4G, and for a moment, don’t hear anything. Then I hear the laughter of a little girl and the sound of tiny feet scampering in my direction. The door flies open, and standing in front of me is an adorable little black-haired girl with pale brown eyes. She’s in flannel pajamas covered in teal and purple dinosaurs, and she is wearing a set of alien antennae on her head. She puts her hands on her hips and surveys me suspiciously.

“Who the heck are you?” she asks in a cute little voice.

“My name is Kylie! Who the heck are you?” I answer, trying not to laugh.

“My name is Hazel James Burnham and I live here.”

I hold out my hand and she shakes it heartily. “A pleasure to meet you, Hazel.”

“Hazel! Who is at the door? You’re not supposed to answer if you don’t…” Adam cuts himself short as he walks down the apartment hallway and sees it is me. He is wearing a homemade astronaut helmet, a snug white T-shirt, and plaid flannel pajama pants. I have to remind myself to keep my eyes on the helmet.

“Kylie? How did you…Arg. Lou, that old bastard.”

Hazel spins around. “Dad! Language!” Adam takes off the helmet and scowls at his daughter. “Hazel, can you go in your bedroom and watch a show on your tablet please? I need to talk to Kylie here.”

“But Dad! I was just about to shoot you with my laser beam and conquer the planet!”

Adam furrows his brow and Hazel gets the message, scampering off in the other direction. Adam tosses the foil-covered helmet onto the couch and gestures for me to join him.

“So. Now you know.”

I sit in the armchair instead and cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t know anything, but Lou knows more than you thought, apparently.”

“Damn. You think I would have been better at hiding her considering…” He stops short, and there is an entire lifetime in the unfinished sentence.

“Considering what, Adam? What else aren’t you telling me? Or what aren’t you telling Lou? Are you hiding anyone else back there?”

He chuckles sadly. “No, no one else.”

I sigh, since it is obvious I am going to have to pry the information out of him. “Where is Hazel’s mother, Adam?”

For a moment, he looks angry, furious even, as if I’ve brought up the one thing he refuses to talk about. Crap, did I overstep my boundaries that quickly?

“Mommy died. A bad man hurt her when I was little and she died.”

Hazel’s voice startles us both, and I watch Adam’s face collapse into a softness I never imagined he was capable of. He holds out his arms and Hazel crawls into his lap.

“It was a mugging gone bad, when she was on her way to pick up Hazel from her daycare. Her name was Mandy.”

Hazel nuzzles into his chest, and every instinct I have to remain disconnected from my clients begins to lose out to my desire to fix these broken people. I feel tears begin to prickle in my eyes, so I try to force them away by focusing on business.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or Lou, for that matter?”

He glances down at Hazel then back up at me. “Certain things are more important than whatever image I can already see you mapping out for me. I want to make sure she is safe and protected. If my story becomes about my past, and all of this, then it becomes about Hazel. I’m not sure I want that.”

I lean back in my chair and survey Adam suspiciously. “Your past? What else aren’t you telling me, Adam?”

“Does it really matter?”

I nod my head, frustrated all over again. “It matters. Because if you don’t tell me, someone else will find out and exploit it. If we own it right out of the gate, then we control the narrative.”

“You really know how to milk the sports metaphors, don’t you?” Adam says with a laugh. Then he gives Hazel a gentle shove off the couch. “Munchkin, can you head back to your bedroom now please? And stay there?” Hazel groans and stomps off. Once she’s gone, I lean forward.

“So what is it? Prison? Car theft? Are you really a spy from another country? I can probably work with all of that,” I whisper. Adam bursts out in a warm, soul-tingling laugh.

“None of the above. Have you actually had clients like that? Jesus. It’s nothing nefarious. But it’s also a lot of stuff that doesn’t fit into the whole image of who I am.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Background in ballet? I can sell that too.”

“Would you just let me talk? I was a Green Beret. Intelligence. I studied at MIT, and was trained at Quantico, originally headed for a career in the FBI. Then, at the last minute, I switched tracks entirely and ended up in Special Forces. It wasn’t my plan or anything. But it was a good career and I loved the work. But… while I was deployed, we lost Mandy. Hazel was in foster care until I got back here, which took longer than it should have. And I swore I would never leave her again. Which is how we ended up here.”

It takes all of my energy to stop my jaw from dropping. Adam isn’t just a skilled boxer; he’s a frigging genius. “I don’t understand. Why don’t you want people to know about your time in the service? It isn’t a bad thing.”

“No, of course not. But it immediately changes people’s perception of me. And instead of trying to kick my ass, they are concerned with not hurting a ‘hero soldier.’ When I go out there, I want my opponent just as ready for a fight as I am,” he says as he runs his hands through his shaggy blond hair. I want to tell him he’s wrong, but deep down, I know he’s not.

“Here is the problem, though, Adam. I wasn’t exaggerating before. If we want to get you into the pros, the minute you step in that first professional ring, the media will be all over you. They will want to know every detail. If we don’t give it to them, they will find it for themselves. And with a face like yours, I can promise you. You are going to be catnip for the press.”

Adam gives me a sly half-smile, the first I’ve seen from him. It makes his blue eyes sparkle, and he has the faintest traces of dimples, which only confirm that the camera will love him. It also cements this weird, tingling feeling I’m getting in the pit of my stomach.

“A face like mine, huh? What does that mean?” he says, teasingly.

I roll my eyes. “You damn well know how good-looking you are. You look like the hero in an ‘80s surfer movie. And that means on top of being good, you’re going to be popular. Sexiest Athlete Alive kind of popular. So right now I need you to decide what you’re willing to let go of. My first suggestion is your desire to keep secrets. It won’t hold.”

He shakes his head nervously. “If you’re sure. But I’m not comfortable with it. And what about Hazel?”

“You can’t hide a child from the paparazzi. And I’m sorry to be blunt, but you won’t be able to hide Mandy either. I’d suggest coming to terms with that now. It would be the first thing they dug up.”

“Daddy! I’m tired! Can we read Stuart Little before bed?” Hazel yells from her room. Adam looks at me with a shrug.

“That’s my cue. We’ll have to pick this up tomorrow.”

I start gathering my things and head for the door, as he follows to let me out. Before I leave I turn to him, trying to look as serious as possible.

“Adam, thank you for sharing all of this with me. It means a lot.”

He laughs. “You didn’t really give me a choice, did you?”

I nod. “Fair enough,” I say with a smile as I walk out. “Fair enough.”

The whole train ride back to my apartment, I can’t stop thinking about everything Adam and Hazel have been through, and the lengths he’s gone through to protect his daughter.

I only hope I can help them going forward…

* * *

“He’s what?!” Lisa shouts at me across her desk.

“I mean, I think I was pretty clear. Single dad. Veteran. Widower.”

Lisa leans back in her chair and puts her feet up on her desk, looking like a tiger circling her prey. “That’s the cover of Sports Illustrated right there. I knew he’d be big, but this guy is a damn goldmine, Kylie.”

I wince. If Adam didn’t want anyone to know about his past, or Hazel, I genuinely don’t think he wants those exact details exploited in a promotional tactic. “Listen, I think it’s better if we get out ahead of the smaller stuff, but I also don’t think he wants to make a big deal about it. And I know he doesn’t want us shoving his little girl in the spotlight.”

Lisa glares at me for a second, but then her expression softens as if she thought better of yelling at me.

“Kylie, honey. You’re new at this. Your instinct was right; the press is going to be all over him in an instant. So why don’t we use these details to our advantage? Yes, your job is about protecting your client, but it’s also about making all of us money. And if you won’t do it, I’ll find someone who will.”

In my head, I tell her I quit, make a big scene on my way out, and announce I’m starting my own business, like a certain movie character that every sports agent knows well. But unlike the movies, quitting and causing a scene would get me blacklisted from the entire industry, so I force a smile and nod cordially.

“Of course it’s not a problem, Lisa. Not a problem at all. His trainer gave me all of his licensing paperwork, so I will go ahead and get that filed. Then we’ll start setting up his first professional fight. We can hit the press once that is scheduled. Sound good?”

Lisa nods at me with smug approval. “Glad you see things my way. Once you get Burnham squared away, you can start picking up other clients. Assuming he’s happy with your services, of course.”

I smile through gritted teeth again and stand up. “Of course.”

As I walk out of her office, I’m glad Lisa’s office is soundproof, because I wouldn’t want my new boss to hear the torrent of cursing that is coming out of my mouth. Now, I get to spend the rest of the day figuring out how I am going to tell Adam that I have no choice but to exploit his past and his personal tragedy.

One week as a sports agent and I’m already acting like a jerk. Can’t wait to see what week two brings…