Page 39 of It's Always Us

I stomp to the locker room, ready to take the field with these jokers so I can go home. My time here with the Liberties may be short-lived. My contract is up after this season, and I’ve been ready for a change, but never more than today.

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I hold my phone like a lifeline, willing her to pick up. It rings and rings. Then it’s that damn automated voice I’m getting really sick of. It’s been days since we’ve talked. Clenching my jaw, I squeeze my phone, not caring if it breaks. This is Lex disappearing, and I know it. I’ve been here before.

I contemplate screwing it all and arranging a flight, needing to see her.

While I ponder the consequences I’m not sure I give a shit about, I turn on the Vipers’ game, hoping it will calm my impatience and temper before they drive me to complete freaking insanity.

I watch the first quarter while icing my shoulder and trying to keep myself from obnoxiously dialing Lex every five minutes, but I’m tempted. Her name on my screen waves itself in my face, daring me.

I give it until halftime, and then my finger takes over, tapping her name before I can stop it. I hit the speaker button, waiting for that loathsome message, but as my thumb violently hangs over the end button, I hear her voice.

“Hey. Can I call you back?”

My instantaneous relief quickly vanishes when I hear music in the background that isn’t the normal country music she listens to at the shop.

“Yeah. I don’t care what time it is.”

“Ok. It shouldn’t be too long.”

We hang up, and I sit by the phone waiting. I want to know where she is, and I’d know if we’d actually been able to talk the past few days.

Half an hour later, I’ve watched none of the third quarter while I stew about where Lex is and what she’s doing. I don’t want to have to wonder. I want to be wherever she is, doing whatever she’s doing, not sitting here making shit up in my head because I can’t be.

My phone vibrates, and I snatch it up, having lost all sense of calm and coolness that used to be my MO.

“Hi. I was contemplating sending out a search party.”

“Sorry.”

There’s the rumble of her truck, and I realize she’s still not home. “Where are you?” I try to sound casual, but after my day, I’m having trouble keeping anything together.

“Um . . . I was helping a friend out.”

“A friend?”

“Yeah. I was babysitting.”

“Babysitting?”

“Yeah. Don’t sound so surprised like I’m incapable of watching a child.”

I run a hand through my hair, relieved she wasn’t hanging out with Slade or any other of the guys she works with. “It’s not that, I just . . . ” I decide to let it go because I miss her so much. My unwarranted jealousy has nothing to do with her or even the guys she works with. It’s all me. “The past days have been . . . ” My agitation and frustration dip as I realizehow much I sound like a sad, lonely puppy dog, and it’s ridiculous. “Not talking to you isn’t working for me.”

When all I hear is road noise, my nerves perk right back up.

“I’ve had some things going on and haven’t always been alone.” Her somber tone revs up my worry again. I need it to back the hell off.

“Tell me what’s been going on. I miss you. I’ve missed talking to you and want to know everything.”

“It doesn’t really matter now.”

Something is wrong. I can feel it. “What’s wrong? I want to know. Please.”

There’s a long pause, and I listen to the rumble of her truck. “I . . . didn’t pass my test.”

Shit. I run a hand over my face. I forgot about her test. I grip my hair, wanting to rip it out. “Lex . . . Baby, I’m so sorry. I for—”

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