Page 98 of Fumbling for Perfection

“There’s no loitering in front of the building, ma’am. Maybe you should check back tomorrow.”

Tears fill my eyes and I nod, not wanting to cause a scene. Not like anyone would see. The street is empty. Walker lives in a safe area, but I still don’t feel entirely comfortable sitting out here alone in the middle of the night.

I take a walk around the block and stop in front of the parking garage to the building. Walker is more likely to see me over here anyway. I pace up and down the sidewalk to warm up, and when my yawns grow bigger and my legs more tired, I finally take a seat on the curb next to the call box.

My head grows heavy, and I catch my chin falling to my chest a handful of times before darkness finally takes over, and I close my eyes, catching a few minutes of sleep while I wait for Walker.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

WALKER

My head hurts like a son of a bitch, and I could sleep for the next three days if given the opportunity. With an early game on Sunday, it’s a short week as it is. Boston is a ghost town at this time of night, or rather, Tuesday morning.

I turn onto the ramp for my parking garage and roll down my window to punch in my code. I’ve only tapped in two numbers when I notice a figure curled in a ball on the ground. Security usually does a decent job of keeping homeless people away from the entrances and helping them find their way to nearby shelters and food pantries.

The faint glow from the streetlights allows me to see they’re wearing a Revolutions jersey.Myjersey. Judging by the mop of hair covering their face and the stained sweatpants, I’m guessing it’s a woman. She could be violated out here on her own. I step out of my car and slide my phone from my pocket to call security to help her when she shifts and her hair falls to the side.

“Riley?” I drop to my knees and brush her hair from her face. “Baby. Are you okay?”

My hands work their way up and down her body, searching for what, I’m not sure. She stirs and mumbles something as I help her sit up.

“Riley?” I cup her face with my palms and brush my thumbs under her eyes until they open.

It takes a moment for her to focus. I can tell as soon as she’s alert. Her body stiffens and she reaches out to me, holding on to my wrists.

“Oh my God. Walker. Are you okay? I’ve been so worried.”

“You’reworried? I just had a fucking heart attack. What are you doing out here? It’s not safe.”

“You were covered in blood.” Her eyes scan my face and settle on the bandage above my left eye. “Walker, what happened?”

“It’s just a scratch.”

“A scratch?” she screeches and rises to her knees. I’m glad to hear her full of energy after thinking she was injured, or worse, on the side of the street. “You couldn’t even see through the waterfall of blood over your face. And the stupid sportscasters didn’t even care. They carried on covering the game, not letting me know if you were going to be okay. I stayed up all night searching the internet for an update. I texted you and you didn’t respond. I’ve been so worried, nearly going out of my mind!”

“You texted?”

“A million times.”

The end of the game was a crazy mad house. Between cleaning up the blood, getting over our shitty last second loss, and the late-night flight home, no one was in a talking mood and we all pretended to sleep on the plane. There was no need for me to check my phone because I’m not used to people checking in with me or me checking in with them.

But Riley cared. She cared so much she texted. She came to my apartment to see me. Except... “Why the hell are you sleeping outside the parking garage? You could have waited in the lobby.”

Preferably in my bed.

“I’m not on your approved guest list so they wouldn’t let me. I guess they’re used to you having crazy stalker girls pretending to be your...friend and stalking you at all hours of the night.”

She’s not wrong. Some players encourage the ladies. Others brush them off. I pay no attention to them. I haven’t had any crazy fans yet here in Boston since I’m relatively new and not many people know where I live. It’s not like I entertain here. But that’s beside the point.

“I haven’t putanyoneon my guest list.” It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before. I’ve never had the need.

“Oh.”

She lowers her eyes, and I want to kiss that pout off her lips. First, we need to get out of the cold and up to my apartment. “Come on.” I help her up and into the passenger seat.

When I’m parked in my reserved spot, we take the elevator to the lobby instead of my floor, and I keep my hand tight around Riley’s hand as I guide her to the security guard.

“Good morning, Mr. Bankes. What can I do for you?” He glances over at Riley and back at me.

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