“Um . . . I’m not sure.” I feel numb but broken. It’s not a feeling that’s easy to describe. “I just need to get to St. Louis so I can talk to Rich face to face—understand what’s next. Miller needs to pay for his role in Jarrett’s death. Whether it’s his fault or he knew what happened this whole time—I owe it to Jarrett to find out.”
“Yeah, you do. Have you talked to Coach yet?” he asks cautiously.
“Not yet. I am going to call him after I hang up with you.” I push my hair off my forehead. All the adrenaline that was roaring through me before has faded and my energy is waning. I can feel the crash coming.
“If there’s anything I can do with him or the team to help let me know. I’ve got your back.” I can hear the sincerity in his voice.
“Thanks, man. I don’t think it will be a problem as long as I am back in the next two weeks.” My muscles feel like they have turned to lead, so I push the button to recline my chair. There’s no way I can make it through this flight without conking out.
“We’ve got your back. Whatever you need.”
“I will—”
Hen cuts me off. He’s not going to let me dismiss his offer to help.
“I mean it. We want you back here in one piece. All of us. Me, Poppy, the team. Delilah was wrecked when she called and she’s not the only one worried about you. This is a lot to deal with.”
“I know. I know.” He isn’t saying it to make me feel guilty. Hendrix gets it. He fought to get Poppy back, and he was a miserable asshole the whole time. After almost losing his person, he doesn’t want me to lose mine.
And I really hope I don’t. I’m counting on the fact that Delilah will be there waiting for me when I get back because there is no way I could choose between getting justice for my brother and her. The choice alone would tear me apart.
Hendrix and I hang up on a promise to check in with him every other day. If I was capable of feeling anything right now, his concern would be heartwarming. But I’m numb and struggling to keep my eyes open by the time I finish talking to Coach. He’s supportive, but like Hen, he wants me to check in to make sure I am prioritizing my health—mental and physical. The conversation also came with a stern warning that if I was released to practice, his hands would be tied on how lenient he could be before fines would start.
The plane’s descent into St. Louis wakes me with a start. When I open my eyes, the plane is dark. The crew is seated in their jump seats and I’m just fucking lonely. It has me questioning my decision to leave Delilah behind. She was right. It would have been possible to do this from Denver.
Every cell in my body was telling me that I needed to be here. That this was finally it. Jarrett was going to get his answers. After all this time, I couldn’t ignore that. So why does it feel like a limb has been ripped away?
Chapter 39
St. Louis (Again)
Present
When I open my eyes early the next morning, there’s no hair ties on the nightstand and the pink AirPod case I’m so used to finding beside my phone is missing. These sheets don’t smell like caramel and coffee beans either. It makes me want to close my eyes and roll back over and pretend this is all just a bad dream.
My screen is littered with notifications, but the notification I want to see the most is nowhere to be found. I’m not sure why it bothers me. I hadn’t really expected a text last night.
Naively, I had hoped that we would stay in the same blissful state we were in before I left, and even though it’s been less than a day there is a noticeable rift. She’s protecting her heart by pulling back because she’s terrified for me, but I’d hoped she might reach out this morning.
Instead, there’s an obnoxious number of texts from the guys in our group chat starting at 3 a.m.
Dom:
GIF of Will Ferrell streaking
Dean:
Don’t even fucking think about it. Coach will have your ass if you get caught.
Dom:
Fine Grandpa. I’ll just go to bed.
Dean:
Stop calling me that.
Dom:
