Page 20 of Finders Keepers
It was Wesley’s turn to huff, eyes still on the lights. “Weird.”
“Yeah.” Nate leaned his shoulder lightly against the glass beside him. “One of those things that doesn’t make sense when you think too hard about it.”
“So maybe we don’t think about it too hard.”
They stood in silence a while longer, watching the city breathe beneath them.
* * * * *
Lush greenery and vibrant flowering hedges made the Union Pacific Pavilion look more like a country club than a sports complex. But Nate was impressed. The Locomotives had a first-class venue. What had he done to deserve this?
Since he’d arrived in Omaha, Nate had only been to the campus once, and that was to get his athlete access card for the buildings and the digital fob for the parking facilities. He’d been given a tour of the whole complex so he could find his way around in the future. With the buildings as spread out as they were, he’d been shuttled from facility to facility via golf cart.
The Lumberjacks had thought they were punishing him, and Nate had thought so, too. At first. His emotions had been raw on his first visit to the corporate office. The sharp edges of his feelings of rejection and betrayal had since softened, and now, as he looked around, he thought maybe, just maybe, he’d ended up with the better end of the bargain.
Today, instead of heading to the corporate offices on the west side of campus, he pulled into the parking lot of the practice facility. It sat between the team’s sleek corporate headquarters building and the main arena and its parking structures on the east side. A dozen or so cars were parked near the entrance. Hewasn’t sure which cars might belong to teammates and which belonged to support staff. Guess he’d find out.
Two hours later, he burst out of the practice facility into the midday heat and humidity. His face ached from smiling, but he couldn’t help his euphoria. He’d received a walkthrough of each building several weeks ago but hadn’t gotten to exchange more than a few words and shake hands with the handful of support staff he’d met. If the guys he’d interacted with today were the standard with the Locomotives, then his whole team experience would be a significant upgrade over that with the Lumberjacks. He eagerly anticipated the upcoming season—more than he would’ve expected even a week ago. Maybe, just maybe, he’d finally landed where he was meant to be.
Once in the car with the AC blowing cold air, Nate called Wesley.
The call went immediately to voicemail.
Nate frowned at his phone and dropped it into the charging compartment of the center console as worry buzzed under his skin. Wesley could be asleep, but he could have fallen while showering or be in some sort of concussion-induced stupor.
Careful to navigate the parking lot according to the posted speed limit, he hit the gas a bit harder once he turned onto 60th Street, then harder still as he headed east on Leavenworth, careful to keep just five miles over the limit. When he reached Saddle Creek Road, congestion held him to five under the speed limit. Fuck. His left foot bounced against the floorboard.
He’s just sleeping, Nate. Calm the fuck down.
The posted limit dropped further when he reached the medical district, and Nate huffed—there would be no speeding on the roads that bracketed the hospital zone. Farnham eastbound crawled. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, knee bouncing.
Once parked in his underground spot, Nate put on the afterburners toward the elevator. The ride to the twelfth floor tested his nerves, but there was nothing he could do about the elevator’s speed.
Please just be sleeping. Please just be sleeping.
When the doors opened, he jogged down the corridor and burst into the condo, heart thumping hard. The front door banged shut behind him.
“Wesley, Wesley! Where are you? Are you okay?” he semi-shouted. Nate hustled toward the living room, his gaze sweeping over the furniture. Not there. Shit, okay. He glanced at the bathroom as he swerved around the corner—not there either. Good, good—and into the guestroom.
Wesley lay curled up, back to the door, still and silent in the way only deep sleep or unconsciousness could manage. His cell phone lay face down on the nearest bedside table.
Thank God.
“Wesley. Are you okay?” Nate spoke loudly. “Please wake up.” Nate reached across the bed and gave his hip a slight shake. “Wesley.”
With a groan, Wesley uncurled and rolled to his back. “Huh?” He blinked slowly, squinting at Nate.
“Oh, thank fuck.” Nate huffed hard, trying to catch his breath, anxiety lifting with Wesley’s words and movements. “I tried calling you. You didn’t answer, and I was worried sick. I got home as quickly as I could. Are you okay?”
Wesley squinted and rubbed his eyes, another low grunt escaping him. “Athide from hurting like hell all over, I’m fine. Why?”
His words were more mumble than not, but Nate understood him.
Wesley panted as he pushed himself upright.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I didn’t hear it.” He glanced at the device.
