Page 51 of Hot Route
“Alright,” I relent.
“Good girl,” he says with a weak smile. He drops his lips to mine in a deep kiss. It’s like he’s trying to commit the feeling to memory. And honestly, I’m doing the same. I don’t know how I’ll get through my days without this. In the short time Blaze and I have been together, he’s already become the most important person in my life. Everything we share, from the passionate moments to the mundane ones, are something I’ll miss dearly. I know this isn’t end of us, but it really fucking feels like it right now.
We break the kiss and I lean into his chest, fisting my hands in his hoodie and letting the tears I’ve been holding back fall from my eyes. I just want to stay right here where I know I’m safe, but the only way to figure out where my career will lead me is to get out of Boston. To go back home and start applying for jobs in other cities. From there, Blaze and I can figure out what the future holds for us. But I can’t say I’m not terrified. What if my absence makes him realize how much he loves the singlelife? What if he meets someone better? Someone who has a good career and can offer him all the things I can’t.
“Stop it,” he says, pressing his lips into my hair. “I can tell whatever you’re thinking isn’t good.”How does he always know?“Everything is going to be fine.Weare going to be fine. Go back to Chicago, take some time to reset, and we’ll figure out the rest together.”
I kiss him one more time before he leads me to the driver’s seat, reaching over my body to buckle me in. I take a long inhale, hoping his scent will somehow stay in my nose long after I leave. He chuckles, removing his hoodie and slipping it over my head. His cologne envelops me, and I feel an immediate sense of peace. Like even though Blaze won’t be with me physically, he’ll always be in my corner.
“I love you, Baby Doll. Remember to use my card as often as you need. Pull over if you get tired and call me when you can.” He shuts my door and takes a couple steps back as I turn the key, the engine roaring to life.
“I love you, too,” I say, trying my best to keep a smile on my face, but it’s fake. We both know it.
I pull down the driveway, watching in my rearview as the love of my life stands there clutching his heart, his face twisting with all the emotions he didn’t want me to see. I have to believe what he said about us getting through this. I could end up getting a job in another city with a company a million times bigger than Tailgate Media, but will it really even matter in the end if I don’t have Blaze to share it with?
That’s the question that plagues my mind for the entire fourteen-hour ride back to Chicago.
THIRTY-EIGHT
BLAZE
A knock on my door,followed by a string of loud rings from my doorbell wake me from a dead sleep. It’s been two days since Mads left. I feel like I got hit by a truck. The weekend wasn’t so bad because I had a full schedule. We had a walkthrough on Saturday, followed by watching hours of game tape at the facility. Yesterday, we played Tennessee at Blizzard Stadium. We won, clinching a playoff spot, absolutely no thanks to me. I played like shit. I couldn’t stop thinking about my last moments with her.
I broke down as soon as her car was out of sight, dropping to my knees in the middle of my driveway and crying like a little bitch until my head was pounding. I got it together long enough to do my job, but after my poor performance, coach suggested I take a couple days off. Normally, this is reserved for veterans who need extra recovery time after games, but he could tell that I wasn't myself. Plus, we’re already guaranteed a playoff berth, so we can afford to let some of the starters rest. I climbed into bed yesterday afternoon and that’s where I’ve stayed.
Whoever is out there lays on the doorbell again, prompting me to throw off the covers and head downstairs. I look throughthe peephole and swing the door open when I see Dalton on the other side. “Since when do you ring the doorbell?” I grumble, turning around and walking to the living room before plopping on the couch.
“Since you changed the lock code, apparently. You’re lucky they recognized me at the gate station, or they wouldn’t have let me in. Did you lose your phone?” he says, sitting down beside me.
“No,” I reply. “I’m just not answering it. I don’t want to talk to anyone but Mads. If she calls, I’ll pick up.” I talked to her yesterday after the game. She stopped at a hotel overnight, probably still tired from the emotional roller coaster she’s been on these past few days, so it took her longer than expected to make it to Chicago. But she got there safely and is taking a few days to process things before she starts applying for jobs.
I miss her so goddamn much, it hurts.
Dalton kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “Well,” he begins, “if you had answered any of the ninety times I called and texted, you’d know Jacob Shane is trying to get ahold of you.”
I sit up straight, every muscle in my body tensing at the sound of his name. “What the fuck does he want?” I know Jacob, but not well enough for him to call me out of the blue to shoot the shit. If he’s trying to get information on Mads, he can fuck right off. If he even says her name, I’ll fucking end him. After all, the whole reason she isn’t here in my arms like she should be is because he chose that piece of shit’s sponsorship over her. I’ll make sure nobody on the current Blizzard roster will work with Tailgate Media from here on out. My teammates are my brothers, and when someone fucks with one of us, they fuck with all of us.
“No idea. He called me earlier asking if I knew where you were. Said he called a bunch of times. It sounded really important,” he says, raising a brow.
“Fine,” I say, annoyed. “I’ll check my phone.” I run upstairs and grab it, noticing that I have about twenty-five missed calls from both Jacob and Dalton. Just as I go to check my voicemail, the phone rings in my hand. “Hello?” I answer.
“Blaze,” he says, exhaling a breath. “It’s Jacob Shane from Tailgate Media. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”
This fucking guy. Just hearing him say my name makes me want to beat the shit out of him. “You have two minutes before I hang up. What do you want?” I grumble. The hand not holding my phone curls into a fist at my side as he speaks.
“I know you were involved with one of my interns, Madison Rodgers. Some things went down at the office, and I made a huge mistake. I need to get in contact with her. I tried calling the number we have on file, but it goes straight to voicemail. I was hoping you could help me.”
That's laughable. Why the fuck would I help this guy when he’s treated her so poorly? He didn't even give her a chance to explain her side of the story with Brady before he kicked her ass to the curb. No fucking way.
“You’re goddamn right, you made a mistake. You sent the next big sports reporter out of the city to go work for someone else. You deserve whatever you get for not believing her when she told you Brady was lying.”
“I know,” he says, shocking me. “I should have listened to her. There have been some new developments in the story. Brady admitted to one of the other interns that he made the whole thing up and a witness heard everything. I need to get ahold of Madison to apologize. And to offer her a job. I know talent when I see it, and there was never another option for who was going to win the permanent position with us. It was always her. I’m sorry, Blaze.”
Holy shit.I need to talk to her. “Don’t tell me,” I say. “Tell her when I bring her back home. And you better hope she acceptsyour apology, otherwise you can kiss working with me or my teammates in the future goodbye.” I hit the end button, tossing my phone on the couch next to me.
“Was the threat necessary?” Dalton says with a smirk.
“Probably not.” I shrug before getting up and heading toward the stairs.
