I smother the sigh that wants to pass my lips.
“I thought she was gonna be up here. We fly out first thing in the morning,” Rett explains.
“Don’t know what to tell you, man,” Linc says before offering to get him a beer.
I sit there silently, fearing that I might be the reason for Parker’s absence. She’ll be with Casey, staying as far away from me as possible.
As Linc stands, I drain my beer and get to my feet.
“I’m heading out.”
“What?” Linc gasps, we’ve barely just got here.
“I know, but I’m wiped. And I want to be up to take Sutton to school tomorrow.”
“Yeah, it’s been a long week,” Linc agrees, as if he has any fucking idea what I’m dealing with right now.
“See you at practice?”
“You got it, man.”
I look at Rett and my nostrils flare. What I want to do is flip him the fuck off. But what I settle on is a curt nod before I make my way from the room.
Thankfully, Coach has registered my attendance, but he doesn’t attempt to talk to me. He’s also searching the room for someone he isn’t going to find.
Just over an hour later, I finally strip down to my boxers and crawl into bed.
Mom was still waiting for me and, much to my delight, wanted to know why I was so off my game tonight. I pacified her by saying I was exhausted after traveling and quickly got the hell out of there.
I gently kissed Sutton good night before closing myself in my bedroom.
But the second I’m alone, my head starts spinning, and all the images flickering around like a movie are of her.
Casey Watson.
She left straight after the game because of me.
Guilt twists around me like barbed wire, making my skin prick and my chest tight.
Before I know what I’m doing, I reach for my abandoned slacks and pull my cell free. Her Instagram page is the last one I searched, and I pull it up in only seconds.
My teeth grind when I find a picture of her and Parker from tonight. Casey proudly wears her Monroe jersey.
That should be your number, a little voice screams in my head.
I scroll through the other images she posted of tonight. Sheand Parker drinking margaritas bigger than their heads. A platter full of tacos, the game, and then ones from later this evening eating dessert together.
While Parker might be in many of the images, I barely register her existence. My attention is locked on my troublemaker.
The longer I stare at her, the more my temperature picks up.
I’d hoped letting myself have her once I knew her identity would have given me some closure and got her out of my system. But I fear it’s done the opposite.
Now, all I can think about is apologizing for my bullshit and proving to her over and over again why she should forgive me.
It would break every goddamn rule…
But isn’t that what they’re made for?
