Page 130 of A Sky Full Of Stars

“Yeah, well, some of us aren’t difficult like you.”

“I wasn’t being difficult. I just knew what I wanted, and she couldn’t find it for me.”

I laugh to myself.I wonder if that’s why he’s still single and playing the field.

“Out of curiosity, are you in the city?”

“Nope, I bought in the burbs.”

Now it’s my turn to call bullshit. “That genuinely surprises me,” I say slowly, my brow furrowed. “I’mreallysurprised,” I add, making Luke chuckle.

“I’m full of surprises.” His voice rises. “Just you wait.”

I huff out a laugh because he’s probably right…and what would I know? We drifted a little after Lainey left, not because of her, but because I stopped coming to Heartwood as often, and with Luke being drafted to San Francisco, our friendship changed.

That is, until the second he heard the news about my move to the Storm—then it was like old times again.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I joke. “But for now, it’s Saturday night and I need a drink.”

“You and me both, but I’m meeting my brother back in Heartwood. I haven’t seen him since the start of the year.”

“That’s great,” I say, holding back the disappointment. “How is he?”

“He’s absolutely killing it.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and my own smile matches it. “He might even be better than me.”

“Luke, both your siblings have more talent than you.” I laugh until I realize what I said, and then cringe. I try not to bring Lainey up unless he mentions her first. Luke may have moved on from the fact that we kept our relationship a secret, but I still don’t like to talk about her. I hurt her and he knows it.

“You’re not wrong.” He chuckles again. “But at least I’m earning the big bucks.”

“That you are.”

“Anyway, I’ve just pulled up at Heartwood U,” he announces, filling my mind with images of our college days. “I’ve got to say, it looks exactly the same,” he adds. “Oh, except for the giant-ass photo of you at the entrance to the stadium, celebrating your move back to California.”

“Bullshit.” My eyes widen. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“Yep. Total bullshit. No one cares that much.”

“Fucker. I’m hanging up.”

“Good. I’m busy. See you soon.”

“Yup. Bye.” I shake my head as I disconnect the call before bringing my rental to life, with no idea where to go. This time next month, I’ll be living here. San Francisco is once again set to become my home, and I’m going to have to find things to pass the time. Being in Seattle was easier. During the season, I could pretend I was a different person, that I had a different life. It’s only during the offseason that I struggled, but at least that time was relatively short, and there were a few of us that didn’t go back to our hometowns. We worked out together, drank together, kept ourselves busy. But here, I already feel different. I know it’s going to be harder to hide away, to keep my feelings masked behind a veil, so I’m going to have to face a few things while I’m here, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

After driving around for a while, I park the car in a secure lot in the city and find a quiet bar for some food. And a drink. I promised myself I’d make some big life changes when I moved here, but for now, I’m still a visitor, so I’m taking advantage of that.

“I’ll take a whiskey dry and a burger,” I say to the bartender as I sit down, pretending I don’t notice when his eyes widen as he registers who I am. For tonight, I want to be anonymous, and when I pull my ball cap low on my brow, he gets the picture, his small nod all the confirmation I need.

“Here’s your drink,” he says, placing the golden liquid in front of me. “And your burger is on the way. Let me know if you need a refill.”

With that he walks to the other end of the bar, keeping himself busy with some menial tasks, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

A dangerous place to be.

When the bar closes, I make my way outside, lifting my hand in the air to wave down a cab as though I’m on a busy street in New York. But, of course, I find the street completely empty. With a shrug, I lean back against the brick wall of the quiet establishment, sliding my phone out of my back pocket to book an Uber.

Thirty minutes later, my head knocks against the window of the car, startling me awake as the bright lights of the city make way for the residential street lamps. “We’re here,” my driver says at the same time I realize I never told Summer I was coming. I probably should have gone to a hotel.

“Oops, too late now.”

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