“Jesus. Don’t hold back.”
“You’re welcome.”
I shake my head, smiling. “You should write greeting cards.”
“I would be amazing at it.”
A tiny voice yells in the background again, followed by another crash, and then the sound of Savannah moving.
“I’d better go wrangle these monsters before they destroy the kitchen.”
“Godspeed.”
“Thanks, I think I’ll need it. Let me know your season schedule when you can.”
“I’ll send it over, and you guys can decide which games you want to come to.”
“Sounds good. Love you. Gotta go! Rem?—”
The line goes dead before I can respond.
For a moment, the car is quiet. All I can hear is the hum of the tires, the soft swoosh of air through the vents. Talking to my sister has a way of making my heart feel full but empty at the same time.
By the time I pull into my driveway, I know she’s right.
I do need other things in my life besides football. I need to do more of the things I like to do in my downtime. Most of which are things Presley and I do together.
I sit there for a second, then grab my phone and hit her name.
She picks up on the third ring.
“Hey,” she says, sounding like she’s moving.
“Hey. What are you up to?”
“Just getting to my place. I stayed a little late to get a workout in then stopped at Alie’s on the way home.”
“Nice. How is little Grant?”
She laughs. “Did you call to make small talk?”
I tilt my head back and rest it against the headrest. “No, not really. Wanted to see what you were up to tonight.”
A short pause.
“Uhh …” I hear a slight shift in her breathing. “Nothing really. Why?”
“Come over.”
Another pause.
“For what?”
“The newDaredevilepisode dropped. I’ll make dinner too.”
She laughs, and I can hear her pressing the buttons on her door. “Bribery with food and fictional violence.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
