Page 86 of Her Game Plan

A text comes through from Addie in our group chat with Sage and Finley.

Addie

Sorry the Stallions got the L.

Sage

Welcome to the losers club.

Finley is in season, so we likely won’t hear from her today… possibly not until June.

I might not have the man I want, but I have three of the best friends a girl could ask for. And maybe that’s who I need in my life right now.

I’m crying before Addie even answers the video call.

Her eyes are wide. “Holy shit, Char. Are you okay?”

My face in the corner is red, tears leaking from my eyes.

“Is this because of the game? Did your dad give Chris the company? Because that is unfair. You had nothing to do with this season. This whole stupid thing is unfair. Your dad is an idiot for even doing this. You and Chris are a great team. Why would he force you two to do this?”

I sniffle. “It’s not the game. Or the company. Though neither is good.”

“Okaaay. Where’s Callan?”

“Gone,” I wail, grief pouring through me with more force than the storm outside.

Addie runs her hand through her strawberry-blonde hair, clearly trying to figure out how to help her sobbing friend from halfway across the country. “Okay, honey. What do you mean, gone? As in, ‘is upset they lost the game and is drinking his sorrows away at the bar’ gone, or ‘died in a tragic car accident between the stadium and your hotel’ gone? Because you’re giving car-accident vibes.”

I suck in a snotty sniffle. “He found out fucking Hugo is considering trading him and doesn’t want to spend time with me anymore.”

“Wait, what?”

I tell her everything. She listens patiently as I sob while telling her how lonely I was, sleeping in the guest bed, how I cried yesterday morning when I carried armfuls of clothes out of our closet. How I spewed nonsense about Callan needing to focus when I sat at the front of the plane and then asked for my own room at the hotel. How it feels like we’re getting a divorce, which is ridiculous because we weren’t ever truly married… or together even. And it’s that last part that makes me want to curl up into a little ball and never come out again. Because it felt like we were together. To me, at least.

“And the way he said ‘Princess,’ like it was a curse word,” I start sobbing again. “It’s like an axe to the chest every time I think about it.”

“Well, stop thinking about it!” Addie practically hollers, her Texas twang standing out.

“I can’t. It’s on repeat in my head. And it’s all my fault.” I truly can’t. The way he said Princess continues to crush me. It, more than my clothes in his closet, more than my toothbrush by his sink, was how I knew things between us had truly changed to be something more, and it wasn’t all in my head.

But then they changed back.

Addie shakes her head. “No. It’s not your fault. You know you couldn’t have told him about the possible trade, even if you were on board with it. That’s confidential information, and you, as owner, can’t go around telling players they’re about to be traded. It’s probably what Hugo wanted you to do, just so he could prove you were unfit to lead.”

That may be true, but it doesn’t make it any less real that I hurt the man who goes out of his way to help everyone else. “He was so upset.”

There’s a moment of silence, apparently neither one of us is sure what can or should be said to make this better. Or maybe it’s that there is no making it better.

“Do you think there is any way to salvage this?” Addie finally asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know. And even if there was, Hugo is on a warpath to trade him. He specifically said he didn’t want to be lying next to me, thinking about whether I was texting someone about trading him. I can’t ask him to stay with me anyway, just because I decided to develop feelings for my fake boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry, Char. I wish I knew what to tell you, but we both know this is out of my wheelhouse. My luck with relationships is so bad, I swear, someone got an Etsy witch to curse me.”

I let out a snotty laugh. “Always an idea to consider. Maybe you should hire one to curse stupid Levi.”

She lifts a shoulder. “Meh. I’ve realized he’s not worth an Etsy witch.”