Page 95 of The Obvious Check
Even now, with the final buzzer long gone and our skates off, adrenaline refuses to leave my system. But it's not just from the game anymore.
“We’re heading out for drinks to celebrate,” Erik announces, slapping me hard on the shoulder. “You in?”
I shake my head with a sigh. “Celebrate? We’ve got to catch a bus at six a.m. tomorrow.”
“That’s exactly why we’re hitting the tea place,” Scotty says. “Gonna fuel up on kombucha, man. Keep it classy.”
“Nah, I’m good,” I reply, leaning heavily back against my locker.
Scotty raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Since when do you turn down a post-win drink?”
“Since our boy here went and got himself engaged,” Erik says loudly, giving me another forceful shove forward, this one strong enough to jolt me fully upright.
As if I forgot that little fact. Savannah is the only person I really want to celebrate this win with tonight.
“It’s not about that,” I lie easily, dragging my hand down my face again, hoping it convinces them. “I’m just exhausted.”
I look up at Dash, who’s towering over me now, saying ‘bullshit’with his eyes, but the gentleman he is, he doesn’t call me out on it. I’m sure he gets I just want to be alone for a while.
“Go without me,” I say, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. “I’ll catch you guys after our next win.”
Nobody argues, probably thanks to Dash. Knowing him, he’s throwing them all a silent, warning glare to leave me be.
When I finally make it back to the hotel, I let the door slam shut behind me with more force than necessary. I chuck my gear back onto the bed farthest from the door so Dash can deal with the one by the entrance when he stumbles in later.
I strip off my sweaty clothes, swapping them for a pair of worn-in sweats and a T-shirt, then collapse onto the bed with a sigh, but the second my head hits the pillow, my thoughts go straight to Savannah.
Did she have a good day? Did anyone have the balls to sit in my spot next to her? How's Stanley handling being without his dad? Has she eaten anything, or is she surviving on coffee and anxiety as usual?
I need to know every mundane detail of her day. Every smile, every moment I missed. I grab my phone and start typingMiss me?But stop halfway through, my chest constricting with thesudden, desperate need to see her face. To watch her eyes light up when she talks. To memorize the way her lips curve when she’s trying not to smile.
But I can’t. She’s still stuck with that ancient piece of shit phone, and I’m not even sure my iPad has enough juice left.
Fuck it. Hearing her voice will have to be enough.
I hit call, but it goes straight to voicemail. The sound of her recorded greeting makes my chest tight with longing.
I try again. Nothing.
I attempt to reach my iPad. Radio silence.
What the hell?
Unease slithers through my chest like poison, threading through my ribs, squeezing until I can barely breathe. She said she’d be home tonight, but what if she’s not? What if Luke dragged her back to that shithole? What if he threatened her again while I was hundreds of miles away, useless?
Motherfuck.
I jackknife upright, white-knuckling my phone as my leg bounces like a jackhammer. My brain conjures every nightmare scenario—Savannah cornered, scared, needing me and getting nothing but silence.
I could text Madison, have her do a wellness check. But that feels pathetic and not nearly fast enough for the panic clawing at my throat.
Then it hits me.
No. That's insane… isn't it? Completely unhinged, and she's probably already asleep anyway. But if Stanley's not in the living room, at least I'd know he's with her. That she's home and safe.
Fuck rational thinking.
My fingers move before my brain can talk me out of it, scrolling through apps until I find the one with the yellow collar icon. My pulse hammers against my eardrums as I tap it open, waiting for the feed to connect. The seconds drag like hours.
