Page 2 of Trapped and Tackled

I swallow, feeling ill at the thought. Gah! I hate how helpless—weak—I am.

It was just a stupid breakup!

It’s more than that, my conscience whispers back.

“You wouldn’t be third-wheeling it,” Marlowe continues before I respond. “Keller’s coming too,” she mentions her cousin and one of our closest friends.

I clear my throat. “Thanks for the invite, but I’m having dinner with Dad.”

“No worries. Now that you’re home, we have plenty of time to grab dinners, drinks, and hang out. Ooh, we can even double date!”

I slam on the brakes at her words, causing the guy behind me to swerve around the truck. He honks loudly and flips me the bird.

Shit! I ease the truck to the side of the road and drop my head to the center of the steering wheel, sucking in a gulp of air.

“You know who’s hot? Brandon Hensil. Remember him? He was in your creative writing class sophomore year. He’s gotten really fit since graduation. Toby’s friends with him and can put in a good word. He works at?—”

“I’m not ready to date,” I manage through clenched teeth.

“Well, maybe not this week since the idea of Craig is still fresh, but…”

I tune Marlowe out as the pit of my stomach slicks with nausea, and my throat closes. The last person I’d let set me up on a date is Toby, but it’s the mention of Craig that cuts. Just hearing his name makes the backs of my eyelids burn with unshed tears.

We met the month after my college graduation, and I fell for him instantly. It was one of those sappy, love-at-first-sight connections I always dreamed would happen to me. And then, it did.

The same week I started my full-time employment at Henley Events, I moved in with Craig.

Those first six months were pure bliss. I guess we were playing house, but nothing had ever felt more real to me.

Safe, steady, and reliable.

He was a finance guy who worked on Wall Street. Nothing like the rowdy, good-time football players my dad warned me to stay away from.

Craig may not bench-press two hundred twenty-five pounds or throw the perfect spiral, but he’s a business-minded visionary who prefers stability—at least, I thought he did.

It’s funny how athletes get the party-guy reputations, but the Wall Street bros who swirl scotch and casually snort cocaine are viewed as “clean-cut.” Either way, things began to spiral until, five nights ago, it all went horribly wrong. I called Mom early the next morning and came straight home.

And since I’ve been back, the harsh reality of life with Craig has trailed after me. The memories and his random text messages that continue to set me on edge—reminding me that even though I’ve left New York, I haven’t escaped him. Not entirely.

Mom and Dad know there’s more to the story than my being homesick, and I’m still unsure how much to confide in them. I’m unsure how much to confide in anyone, which is why I haven’t said anything to Marlowe either. Instead, I put space between us.

As Marlowe continues to chat, I ease back onto the road.

I’ll have to decide quickly because dinner with Dad promises to be an inquisition. In fact, I’m surprised he’s given me four days to adjust to being home. I’m sure that was at Mom’s urging to allow me some time, but Coach Strauss isn’t a patient man when it comes to his daughters’ well-being.

Physically, I’m talking to my best friend.

Mentally, I’m preparing for dinner with Dad.

Emotionally, I’m teetering on the edge.

Should I have left Craig sooner? Am I a failure for leaving New York and a job at a top agency in the city? Was I too naïve and trusting, and should I have known better from the start?

“Ooh, I gotta go! That’s Toby!” Marlowe interrupts herself.

I blink back unbidden tears. “No worries, Mar,” I mutter. “I’m nearly here anyway,” I add as I turn into the parking lot of the training facility. “Talk to you later?”

“Yes, I’ll call you. Say hey to Freddy, and don’t forget to tell him about my birthday weekend.” She disconnects.

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