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Luke Johnson prides himself on having never asked me for anything—of never taking anything from me in this life. I suppose it’s appropriate that what he does ask for won’t be given until his death.
He will still get to hold on to his pride, and it’s liberating to realize don’t care enough to want to take that from him. “Sure, Dad. You got it.”
31
CARLEE
It’stwo in the morning by the time the plane touches down in Dallas. We were supposed to arrive closer to eleven, but a storm over the gulf delayed our takeoff. The team and staff were good-natured about it, still riding high from the win against the Alabama Crows that afternoon, but it wasn’t long before people started to get restless. By the time we took off, most of the players were pretty surly.
Now, hardly anyone speaks as they shuffle around, gathering their belongings, ready to get off the plane and get home and into bed as soon as possible. I stay seated, leaning against the window as Chris stands from the seat next to me. “Did you drive to the airport?”
I glance up. He looks as bleary-eyed and tired as I feel. “No, my best friend dropped me off.”
“Is she picking you up, too?”
“No.” Morgan had planned to get me, but when our flight was delayed, I told her not to worry about it since I had no idea when we’d land.
“I can take you home,” Chris, ever the gentleman, offers. He’s a good guy. There’s nothing romantic between us, but I wonderif he’s seeing anyone. Morgan could use someone stead-fast like him.
“That’s okay,” I tell him. “I’ll order an Uber.” One nice thing about living in a city with a vibrant nightlife life is that there are plenty of rideshare drivers working late into the night.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Thank you for the offer, though.”
“Anytime.” He grabs his bag from the overhead compartment and slides into the aisle between two players. “Goodnight, Carlee.”
I return his wave. “Goodnight.”
I watch him leave, then wait for the aisle to clear up before standing and shuffling into the walkway. I reach up to grab my carry-on, but someone beats me to it. Familiar, tanned fingers wrap around the handle of my floral bag and bring it down.
Corey.
I close my eyes and take a fortifying breath. “Can I have my bag, please?”
“Not until you talk to me.”
Fatigue and a general sense of heaviness weigh down my shoulders. I open my eyes and turn towards him. I don’t see anyone behind him. Are we the last people on the plane?
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I mumble.
“You know that’s not true.”
I glance towards the cockpit to see if any of the flight attendants remain, hoping one of them will interrupt us by insisting we leave the plane. I’m not so lucky.
I groan and turn back around. “It’s late, Corey. I don’t have the energy for this right now.”Or maybe ever.
To be honest, I’m surprised this is the first time Corey’s managed to corner me since our falling out. Aside from his persistent texts and calls those first few days, he hasn’t done much to try and force a conversation. I haven’t made it easy,what with making sure I was around Chris or Tony at all times, but still… I’d expected to have this confrontation happen already. It was inevitable.
Just not at two in the morning…
“I know, Carlee,” he has the decency to sound remorseful. “The timing sucks, but all I’m asking is for you to listen.”
I shake my head. “I told you to figure your stuff out,” I remind him. “There’s no way you’ve resolved all your issues in a week.”
“Technically, it’s been nine days.”
I refuse to be charmed by the twinkle in his eye. “I’m serious, Corey.”
