Page 116 of Hitting the Gap

“Does she?” he asked. “Wouldn’t she be at least willing to discuss options if she loved me? I’m not saying it has to be my way, but we should at least consider both sides, shouldn’t we? How would you feel if Peyton said it didn’t matter what the contract was, it’s not up for discussion? You’re staying here whether the Hawks’ offer or not.”

“The Hawks are gonna offer you something.”

“Jesus, not the point,” Gonzo growled. “How would you feel?”

“I don’t know, cuz it wouldn’t happen.”

“How do you know? You guys haven’t talked about when your contract is up.”

“Well, cuz you can’t date a ballplayer and not consider the fact that guys get traded.”

“Exactly. So what does that tell you about Bailey and I?”

“Umm—” Ryan stammered.

“That I’m a fucking idiot. I’m over here thinking I’m gonna marry this girl one day and she’s just passing time, fucking the friend with benefits.” His eyes burned. “Sorry guys, I gotta go. I can’t do this. It’s not helping.” He pushed against Smitty to let him out.

“Gonz, come on,” Ryan pleaded.

Emotion clogged his throat. He pushed harder against Smitty’s side. “Move,” he growled. Finally, his friend slid off the bench and he could get out. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he told them before he stormed away.

On autopilot, he walked back into the hotel and punched the elevator button for his floor. Once inside the room, he pulled his phone from his pocket and pulled up his message thread with Bailey.

GONZO

Are you willing to consider moving?

BAILEY

Can we talk about this when you get home?

GONZO

Answer the question.

BAILEY

We aren’t doing this over text.

GONZO

Guess that answers my question.

Three little dots appeared, then stopped. He waited. The dots appeared again, then stopped again with no message. It was almost like she was deleting what she’d typed. Then the dots stopped.

Fuck.

He chucked his phone on the bedside table. No reply. Looked like he had his answer.

Angry, he tore open the mini-bar fridge and pulled out the dozen mini-bottles of alcohol. If this night didn’t call for getting drunk, he didn’t know what did. He cracked the top of the vodka and downed it in one gulp. The liquid burned as it glided down his throat. He picked up the next clear bottle. Peppermint Schnapps? What the hell? Who drank that shit? He set the bottle down and picked up the remaining bottle with clear liquid. Vodka. Perfect. He downed that bottle. He eyed the cluster of bottles. Bourbon felt like the right next step.

The sound of his phone pinging with an incoming message woke him up sometime later. He opened his eyes. Jesus, why had he drank so much? Blurry eyed, he leaned over toward the nightstand. Was that the empty bottle of peppermint schnapps? Jesus. Fumbling, he grabbed his phone. The screen flashed with an unopened message from Bailey.

BAILEY

It doesn’t answer your question at all. It says this is too big a topic to discuss when you’re on the road. I lost myself with Brad. You helped me find me again. Now I just need to figure out what it means. And that takes time. Can you please respect that? We’ll talk when you get home. Good luck at your game tomorrow.

Well shit.

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