Page 124 of Wild Catch
“I told him I’m going to wait for him to snap out of it.”
Audrey tilts her blonde head. “What if he takes ten years?”
“Hopefully he doesn’t. Now that I’ve found him, I’d rather not spend a long time waiting on my own.” I give out an awkward laugh and drink some more.
“I give him a week,” Hope says drily.
“Three days tops,” challenges Audrey.
“Hundred bucks?”
“You’re on.”
I sigh, ignoring the betting going on. “Am I doing the right thing?”
“Yes,” Hope says unequivocally. “You’re going after what you want with no reservations. No matter what happens, you won’t have any regrets.”
Audrey shrugs. “If he makes you happy then yes. Don’t pass him up.”
“Thank you, girls,” I whisper, cradling my cup of margarita tenderly.
Hope presses her toes against my side. “We’re here for you.”
“Couldn’t we be there for you from our respective beds?” Audrey asks casually.
“No, we’re drowning all my sorrows together.”
“All right.” She tosses back the rest of her drink. “Guess we’ll Uber to work tomorrow, then.” And we spend the rest of the night complaining about shortsighted men.
CHAPTER42
LOGAN
As if tonight couldn’t get more bizarre, I find myself eating pizza from Cade Starr’s favorite place in the parking lot of the ballpark. We sit on the walkway, two extra large boxes with extra meaty pies between us. We even went off the rails and got sodas to wash down the grease.
And by we I mean Cade Starr, Lucky Rivera, and Miguel Machado. What a weird combo.
Chewing through a giant, cheesy bite, I ask the latter, “Don’t you have a kid at home to get to?”
The newest member of the team swallows his mouthful to respond, “The nanny already put her in bed. She’s not missing me right now.”
“Ah.” I guess well cared for kids would go to bed early. I wouldn’t know. My parents didn’t give a shit about what I did when we weren’t in public.
“You’re right,” Rivera says to Starr, observing his own slice carefully. “This really is superior pizza. There’s just something about it.”
“I’m thinking of investing in the place so that it never closes,” says the cowboy, which strikes me as something veryhim, for some reason.
Since when am I familiar enough with anyone that I can even think that way?
Actually, since when am I close enough to anyone that they’d stay around me when I feel like absolute garbage? And even feed me?
“What are you all doing here?” I ask at last, even though we’ve been sitting here for like half an hour.
They waited for me to get my tests done, and even had the food waiting beside my bike—which by the way, I won’t be able to ride for a while, so Rivera offered to take me home.
It turns out I have bruised ribs, a strained shoulder, and a mild concussion. The combination wouldn’t make me a safe bike rider for myself or anyone else.
I also got a suspension and fine, the cherry on top.
