Page 74 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

My head hangs between my shoulders as all the potential outcomes filter through my mind the same way they’ve been for days, and why I know a relationship with Blake would never work. Not in the long run. It’d be easier if I didn’t know Blake so well. If I wasn’t attuned to her wants and needs. To her hopes. Her dreams. How much they clash with mine.

It’s bullshit.

And it isn’t fair.

“Tell me,” he pushes.

“Because I’ll screw it up, and it’ll put both our futures on the line. Besides, Coach heard from more than one source that the Rockies want me. I’ll be across the country by the end of the year. Leaving isn’t fair to her.”

“Fucking her and pretending it didn’t happen isn’t exactly fair, either,” he points out.

Way to call it like it is, Colt.

Another scoff slips out of me, and I scrub my hand over my face. “Good point.”

“If she isn’t some puck bunny, you shouldn’t write her off under the guise of protecting her. She’s a big girl. She can make her own decisions. And she’d be pissed if she found out you thought otherwise. You should call her.”

“I’ve tried––”

“Call again. Show up on her doorstep. Meet her for a run. Do something to fix this mess. I don’t care what it is, but I already lost Logan. I’m not gonna lose another friend because he couldn’t get his head out of his ass.”

He’s right. He’s been through enough shit over the last few months––hell, the last few years. He deserves a break. An opportunity to have things go smoothly for once. And I need to make it happen.

My phone rings in my pocket, and I pull it out, ready to silence the call when Colt and I see my mom’s name flash across the screen.

“Answer it,” Colt mumbles.

My thumb hovers over the red button, but he prods, “Seriously. If Mama Taylor finds out you ignored her call because of me, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

My mouth tilts up in amusement, and I slide my thumb toward the right side, bringing the phone to my ear. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hello, my favorite Theodore.”

I chuckle and scrub my hand over my face. “I’m your only Theodore.”

“And my favorite,” she repeats.

“Gee, thanks.” Colt lets out a breath of laughter beside me. I add, “What’s up, Mom?”

“Just wanted to know if you’ve heard from your brother.”

My parents had Macklin when they were young while my dad was going to school to become a dentist. Ten years later, they had me. The age gap didn’t exactly make us close, especially when he got a girl pregnant in high school and wound up marrying her by the time I was eight only for her to leave him years later.

I shake my head even though she can’t see me and answer, “Not really. Why?”

“Because he moved into his cabin last month and is living like a mountain man. That’s why.”

“What’s wrong with Mack living in the mountains, Mom?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” she argues. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. He’s seemed…guarded lately.”

“Can you blame him? He just got divorced.”

“It’s been two years.”

“His kids aren’t talking to him.”

“And he isn’t talking to me,” she huffs. The familiar rhythm of the KitchenAid flares to life, and I bite back my amusement. Mama Taylor has always been one to tune out her anxiety with baking. Apparently, today isn’t any different.

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