Page 84 of Bound and Blitzed

But I can’t move. Can hardly muster breath.

The bulk of my backpack keeps my upper body propped up as I try to shift into a more comfortable position. I dig into the pack for a waterproof blanket, pulling it over my frame, my face, my pack. It’s not entirely waterproof, especially with the skies dumping water at this pace, but it allows me to suck in a breath and take a minute.

I need to assess my injuries. I need to get to a safer, drier location. I need to call for help.

As I mentally work through a checklist, I try to physically follow it.

My movements are slow and sluggish. My head throbs, my ankle screams, and my vision blurs.

But I do my best to keep myself safe. And pray that my team will send someone to look for me as soon as possible.

Chapter25

Avery

“Solid fucking practice,”Talon says, smacking my back.

“You too, man,” I say.

“We’re gonna take it all the way this year,” West Crawford predicts. “Especially after we crushed Houston!”

“Shh! Don’t fucking jinx it,” Jag shoots back.

Gage chuckles. “Can’t jinx raw talent. We got this!”

“You just want to go out on a high,” Jag tosses back, teasing him.

As Gage is nearly thirty-eight years old, and his contract is up after this season, the entire team is wondering if—when—he will announce his retirement.

“Wouldn’t be a bad way to finish,” Gage replies, not committing one way or the other.

West chuckles. “We hitting Corks?”

“Hell yeah,” Talon agrees. “Leni is visiting her sister in London. The last thing I want to do is go home and be bored. House is too damn quiet without her. I’m fucking happy our next game is out of state just so I can leave.”

Fuck. I know that feeling. Since I left my condo to crash at my sister and Cohen’s place over a week ago, I’ve felt that restlessness again. The one I used to fucking run from. It’s back, with a vengeance, making me realize how much I miss my wife.

Now that Lena is gone, I’ve returned to the condo. I read her thoughtful sticky note. It should have put my mind at ease, but all it did is kick up more questions. With her gone, there are no answers and so, the restlessness clings to me.

Again, I’m apart, even when I’m at the center of things.

I only felt truly connected when Valentina was at my side. I think about her constantly, wondering how her research is going.

I hate that she hasn’t reached out. It’s been five fucking days since she walked into the Great Smoky Mountains and other than a text that first day letting me know she was straight, there’s been no communication.

It’s like she’s off the grid and I can’t help but worry about her, about us, and what her silence means for our marriage. An icy tentacle wraps around my limbs, tightening with each passing hour, as my concern for her heightens. Why hasn’t she called? My nervousness morphs into paranoia, and I can’t stop the intrusive thoughts that filter through my mind.

“Hey,” Cohen says.

I look up and note the concern that flashes in his eyes.

“You straight?” he asks, lowering his voice.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“No one would blame you if you begged off drinks,” he adds.

I give him a look. Of course, the guys would blame me. Or, at the very least, flip me shit. I’m the team captain and we just had a solid practice ahead of our next playoff game. We’re boarding a plane to Detroit in two nights and need to be one-hundred percent focused.

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