Page 230 of By His Play

Kieran: I’m coming for you, Luck…

My message is delivered, but it doesn’t show as read.

Irrationally annoyed that I’m not her main focus right now, I drop my cell into my lap and stare out as Jamie follows the GPS to take us home.

We chat away about camp and football news we’ve heard recently, but we don’t dive into anything too deep or personal. Jamie never does. It makes me curious as fuck to know who he really is, but apparently, we’re not close enough for me to have that privilege.

This life can suck you dry if you put too much out for everyone to take. But we’re not the public or even the press; it’s okay to open up to teammates. After all, we fucking get it.

We’re about an hour out when I unlock my cell again and go back to the email I abandoned earlier. It’s nothing very exciting, and after reading through the plans for Q1 of next year, I go through a load of others that are awaiting my attention.

When I get bored, I open up Instagram. I figure I can get a bit of an Effie fix before I get to see her in person. She doesn’t post much on her page, but there is enough to get me through.

Only, I don’t get to her page; I don’t even get a chance to look at my notifications, because the first picture that comes up on my feed has me blinking in disbelief.

No.

Ripping my eyes from the image, I read the caption.

Our teams aren’t the only ones trading players in the off-season.

Fury races through my veins as I look up again.

Effie never told me what she was doing last night. She teased me about going on a date, but I took it as a joke.

I thought she was taunting me.

I didn’t think she was serious and was going to be out in public, kissing my teammate.

55

EFFIE

Honestly, the person who thought it was a good idea to hold a meeting this afternoon needs to be shot.

No one wanted to be there. I caught every single person around the table glancing at a clock more than once. All of us were too busy mentally preparing for the night and weekend ahead of us.

It’s comical really. I’ve never been that person.

Sure, I always look forward to my evenings and weekends—who doesn’t? But I’ve never had plans so important or exciting that I’ve wanted to change the clock just to get out early.

The last two hours of the day feel like a week, but finally, the meeting is brought to a close, and no sooner have I fled the meeting room than my computer is shut down and my purse is over my shoulder. I am out of there.

Anything I haven’t done can definitely wait until Monday.

My hands are trembling and butterflies are rioting in my stomach as I drive home. I barely even remember the journey; I am on total autopilot as I mentally plan what I am going to do the minute I walk into my apartment.

Kieran is on his way home. He messaged a couple of hours ago to say that they were on the road. For all I know, he could already be back at his apartment by now, also getting ready for tonight.

My foot taps on the floor as the elevator rises through the building, and the second I’m inside, I begin undressing.

I shed clothes as I move toward my bedroom, and by the time I get to the bathroom, only my underwear remains.

That soon hits the floor, and I step into the shower before I’ve let it warm up.

I shriek when the cold water hits me, but I don’t shy away.

Seeing as I’ve already been waxed from head to toe, I don’t need to waste time shaving anything. Instead, I wash and deep condition my hair in the hope it does what I want it to, and I scrub every inch of myself clean.

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