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“I’ve got to figure something out. Fuck!”
“Zan,” I say again, grabbing the phone. He relents, and I put it to my own ear, my heart breaking at her wails. “Hey, Callie. It’s Willa. Can you tell me where you are?”
“I ran,” she says, hiccupping. “I’m in the park.”
“How close is the park to your house?” Zander wraps his arms around me but only so he can grab the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles turn white.
“A few blocks.”
“Okay, do you have a safe place that you can get to?”
“Um, I can probably go to Katie’s.”
“Who’s Katie, honey,” I ask.
“She’s my friend. Her mom is really nice.”
“Okay, good. Does she live far?”
“No, her house is over by the ice rink.” I don’t know what that means, but I’ll take her at her word that it’s close and she can get there.
“Can you start walking there now? I’m going to stay on the phone with you until you get there. Okay?”
“Okay,” she says. I check the time and realize how late it must be there.
“Where’s your mom at, Callie?”
“She’s at work, she took a second job at the hospital. She works in the laundry room.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Zan must have heard it, too, because he frowns.
“Is Zander still with you?”
“Yeah, honey. He’s right here. Do you want to talk to him?”
“Yes, please. But thank you, Willa.”
“Anytime, Callie.”
I hand the phone back to him and he talks to her while she finishes the walk to her friend’s house. Once she’s there, he talks to Katie’s mom and asks her to try and keep Callie there until he gets to town. She agrees to do her best, but we all know that if her parents show up, all bets are off. However, Katie’s uncle is one of the town’s deputies and her mom promises to call him and see if he can get involved.
It’s the best we can do right now.
“He punched her, Willa,” he says when he’s finally hung up.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for talking to her. I couldn’t focus on anything but wanting to kill him,” he says, dropping his head onto my chest.
“Of course, Zan. Do you want to call my dad, see if there’s a way to get you out of the Detroit game and get you home earlier?”
“I doubt much can be done, but it’s worth a shot.”
We drive back to our building, and he proceeds to call my dad and the general manager. It’s not my father’s call, but Zan trusts his opinion over most other people’s. His expression tells me it isn’t going well.
“The only option would be to put me up on waivers,” he says, ending his call. “It’s too risky, I can’t take that option.”
Understandably, because if another team picked him up, he’d have to make another move. It could be anywhere, and he’d lose the support system he has built in here. And he would most definitely be picked up; he’s been playing so well.
