I watched Baylee sleep for a few minutes before I left to catch my flight. I wanted to wake her up and shake some sense into her. I was so pissed last night and this morning that she gave up on our relationship so easily.
Now, I just feel like a dick.
If I know Baylee, she’s packing her shit to move out of my condo. To move into Beau’s camper or Sean’s extra-handy spare bedroom, which he made a point to tell her about the other day.
Getting on the airplane this morning was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Even if she hadn’t just dumped my ass, leaving Baylee and Leo felt like the wrong thing to do.
I don’t understand it. How can chasing after my dream be wrong?
Could I have thrown more money at finding someone to take over the salon so she could come with me? Yes. But even if Leo needing to be near Sean wasn’t an issue, as I look around this crowded city, I know she’d hate it here. Hell, I hate it here.
I love the idea of New York. Its sophistication that I’ll never have. Its sleek buildings that boast of businesses I’ll never comprehend. An entire block dedicated to musicals and plays I’ll probably never watch.
But I miss my quiet hometown. I miss the dust on my boots when I go to the ranch. The way a thousand stars blink back at you in the night sky. And the beautiful woman who appreciates those same things.
My Uber screeches to a halt in the middle of an intersection, jerking my neck so hard, my shoulder spasms. Son of a bitch. That shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, not after all the rehab I just did.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” my driver shouts at a pedestrian who slams her fist on our hood.
By the time I get to my apartment, my head is throbbing.
As I walk down my hallway, I realize someone’s throwing a party on my floor.
When I reach my door, I close my eyes and pray for patience. Because my roommates are the ones throwing the bash.
I reach for my keys, but the door swings open, and my roommate Bootsy shouts my name. Everyone behind him yells like I’m a celebrity.
I’m supposed to love this. I thought I would. But all I want right now is some peace and quiet, a moment alone so I can figure out my future.
Unfortunately, the apartment is teeming with people. Rap blares from the stereo. When I realize what I’m seeing, I groan. Not today.
Several of my teammates are sprawled in our furniture, getting lap dances.
“Are those strippers?” I ask.
Bootsy smirks. “Brought them home to welcome you back, man!”
“You shouldn’t have. Really.” Because Baylee would blow a gasket if she saw this.
There are too many bare tits in here. And too much fucking glitter.
Dragging my suitcase with one hand, I wave with the other as I head to the kitchen to grab some water. Then I beeline it to my bedroom and flip on the lock.
After I kick off my shoes, I crawl into my bed and throw my arm over my face.
Maybe Bay’s right. Maybe we’d never survive if we did long distance.
Not that I’d entertain a stripper if she and I were dating.
We’re not together anymore, and the thought of touching another woman still turns my stomach.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out, hoping it’s Bay.
It’s not. If I know my girl, her pride will never let her call me right now.
My agent Vance starts talking before I even say hello. “Are you ready for tomorrow? After you see your neurosurgeon, you need to hightail it to the stadium for your physical. Be sure to bring the paperwork from neuro that says you have the go-ahead to play. The team physician will need that to keep you on the injured reserve list.”
“Hi, Vance. It’s always nice to hear from you. How have you been?”
