Page 2 of I Need You Tonight
“Soccer!” That came as no big surprise.
“Do you think your parents would mind?” I surveyed the backyard. It wasn’t huge, and while under normal circumstances it would be fine, it might be problematic with so many guests milling around.
Logan tugged on my hand. “It’s all good.”
I somehow doubted it. I scanned the area for Jared and Callie, but they were nowhere to be found. Guess they couldn’t wait until nighttime to consummate their marriage. Lucky bastard!
“Why don’t we ask your grandmother first, okay?” I signed the “okay” part. “Don’t go anywhere,” I told Tomas. “You might get drafted into the soccer match.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything,” said Tomas, who was part Latino and had grown up on soccer.
Logan and I walked over to his grandmother, who was talking to a few guests near the refreshment table. “That should be fine,” she said after I asked her if it would be okay to play a low-key game of soccer. “Just keep the ball away from the patio, okay?” She said the last part to Logan, then to me she added, “And no kicking it hard. We don’t need it landing in the food.”
Good point.
Logan hurried off to fetch his soccer ball. A few minutes later he and I, along with the other guys in the band, Tomas, and the cute little flower girl, were kicking the ball around the lawn. Callie cheered on her boys, who were on my team, while Hailey cheered on Nolan, who played on the opposite team.
Kirk kicked the ball past Aaron. I high-fived him. “Nice job, puck boy.”
“As if you ever doubted me, drummer boy,” he said with a smirk.
The phone in my tux pant pocket vibrated. I ignored it. Everyone who was likely to contact me was at the wedding. So unless my estranged family had a sudden longing to forgive me for the mess I’d dragged them into a few years ago—and I doubted they had forgiven me, or ever would—the call could wait.
Logan kicked the ball past Tomas, who was positioned between two wedding chairs, and scored a goal. He squealed with joy and jumped up and down, as did Emma, the toddler flower girl, who was on the other team. We laughed at their reaction.
Jared hugged Logan, and the memory of my father once doing the same when I was a kid almost knocked me onto my ass. I’d just scored a touchdown. It had been only flag football, but that hadn’t mattered to him. He had been proud of me no matter what—as long as I gave it my all and worked hard. As long as I played fair.
I shoved away the memory and the hurt. I had moved on. No point picking at the scab again.
I high-fived Logan and got back into position. Callie tossed the ball onto the grass and the game resumed. Giggling, Emma kicked the ball, and kept on kicking it away from the rigged-up soccer field. Logan chased after her. The rest of us stood on the grass, laughing.
A bird tweeted near the tree house. Without warning, Emma stopped and pointed at where the sound had come from, the soccer game instantly forgotten. Not expecting her to stop, Logan almost careened into her. He took advantage of the distraction and kicked the ball away from her. Emma didn’t even notice.
He dribbled the ball back to us but then forgot about the no-kicking rule. And wow, could the kid ever kick. The ball smacked the ass of the woman who had loaned me her pen. We all cringed as it made impact, and cringed even more at the dirty ball print it left on her beige skirt.
She turned around to find Logan staring at her backside, his mouth a perfect circle. She smiled sweetly at him. “Your daddy said you were a good player. He just failed to mention how great a player you are.” She ruffled his hair and returned her attention to the elderly couple she had been talking to.
The phone vibrated in my pocket again.
I don’t know what compelled me to check it, but a weird feeling warned me it was important. I removed my phone and looked to see who had texted me.
Call me ASAP! Important.
The last I’d heard, Zack was off who-knew-where on a mission for the navy. He’d been gone for a few weeks now.
Striding to the side of the house, away from the noise, I speed-dialed his number. He answered moments later.
“Hey, McCormick, what’s so important?” I asked.
“You remember my sister, Nicole?”
“Yes.” She was two years younger than Zack and me, and had gone to a different high school. Whenever I had hung out with Zack at his house, she was usually there. Most fifteen-year-old little sisters loved tormenting their older brother. Not so with Nicole. You could tell she worshipped him. He was her world—and it was obvious he adored her just as much, despite how much he teased her.
But who could blame him? She did make the best chocolate chip cookies known to man.
“I’ve been trying to contact her for the past two days. She isn’t returning my texts or messages.”
“You think something’s happened to her?”
