Page 166 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
He snorts. “You need to text her and ask her for a picture of her tits to see if that will keep you focused.”
“I don’t need to?—”
“If she doesn’t text back,” Cam interrupts, “you turn into a sad divorcee staring at the driveway with a glass of whiskey and Sarah McLachlan playing in the background.”
“That was one time.”
“Bro, you were watchingSteel Magnolias.”
“It’s a classic.”
“You cried.”
“I got something in my eye.”
He just raises a brow. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”
I flip him off.
He laughs like he won. And maybe he did. Because yeah—I miss her. Miss the scent she leaves on my pillow. Miss the heat of her thigh brushing mine under the breakfast table. Miss how she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention—like she’s trying to memorize me, piece by piece.
Cam jogs ahead for another drill. I stay back, staring at the turf like it holds answers.
What’s wrong with me?
I’m doing everything right—drills, film, double workouts, chugging protein shakes the color of regret. But it’s not clicking. I’m distracted. I’m off. I’m?—
Down bad.
And if I don’t get her voice in my ear soon, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Olivia: Update: The goat peed on the waiting room rug. I repeat: THE GOAT PEED ON THE RUG. This is not a drill. :alarm: emoji : melting face: emoji
Lucian: Why was there a goat in the waiting room?
Olivia: His name is Samson. The technician I was interviewing brought him . . . apparently “just here for vibes.” I don’t make the rules, Lucian.
Lucian: You literally made the rules. It’s your clinic.
Olivia: Technically, Sarah made the rules. I’m just her admin.
Lucian: Pics or it didn’t happen.
Olivia: () [Photo of Samson the goat on a rug, Sarah sitting beside him like she’s leading a team meeting.]
Lucian: Tell your receptionist she’s doing great work.
Olivia: She just licked the counter.
Lucian: Same. When you left, I licked the coffee table in grief. Maybe you should hire a human receptionist and let me hire a chef. You’ve seen how great it works for Leif and Hailey.
Olivia:Dramatic. Are all football players like this, or are they just emotionally fragile running backs? And no chef. They have a baby. We don’t.
Lucian: We both work and we have a Sarah . . . she needs more than Luna.
Olivia: How’s the ankle?
