Page 179 of Falling Offsides

“Okay…” Étty exhales, already texting on his end. “Alright. Let me loop Marley in. Her clients always have a jet on standby here and there…”

Marley works PR for one of the biggest record labels on the continent. And her clients don’t exactly fly coach, so if anyone can help me, it’s her.

“Sit tight,” he says. “I’ll call you back in five.”

I hang up and stare out the windshield, heart hammering. Courtney’s out there alone… hurting. And I’m not fucking there for her.

My eyes flick to the infotainment screen, a few contacts are listed from when Courtney connected her phone.

One name flashes.

Delilah.

I don’t think about it, I just hit dial and she answers on the second ring.

“Hello?” I take a moment too long to speak and she immediately warns, “Whatever you’re selling is not for me.”

“No. No… it’s Auguste.”

“The Puckinat—” Delilah stops. Then warily, she asks, “Wait, why are you calling me?”

“Court… her mom,” I say, voice tight. “She was in an accident and now she’s in surgery?—”

“Oh my god.”

“I need to know where she’ll be. I can’t get through to her, and I need to know where she’ll go so I can go to her.”

“Fuck. She’s… she’ll be at the hospital. That’s where she’ll go.”

“Washington Memorial.”

“Yeah, Courtney will be by Catherine’s side. Ask for Catherine Nolan at the information desk. If you have any problem let me know, my mom is a donor there so she can get you in.”

“Thank you,” I say as a message comes through from Marley with flight details from the private airstrip at LAX.

I’m texting her back as quickly as I can so I reroute to the private terminal when Delilah asks, “Can you keep me updated? Courtney has tunnel vision in these situations and?—”

“Yeah, of course.” I nod even though she can’t see me.

I end the call and dial Marley for all the information. Turns out the label is flying a jet to one of their artists in Boston and it’s rigged with enough fuel for a stop in D.C.

Thank fuck.Something has to go our way.

Within the next thirty minutes, I’m boarding the jet. My legs are bouncing each second that passes and the flight staff brief me on the safety procedures and every other goddamn if, what, and how scenario. I just need to get to my girl. My palms are sweating and my pulse is spiking. I’m pretty certain this is what a heart attack feels like.

The moment we lift off, I close my eyes and try to gather myself.

I don’t care what I have to do. Who I have to fight. The hurdles I have to jump.

I’m going to find her.

I’m going to hold her hand through this fucking nightmare, and I’m not letting her go.

Ever.

THIRTY-FIVE

COURTNEY

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