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“Sooo, I should go to my Nonna,” I say but don’t move.

O’Keefe nods and shoves to his feet. “I have specific information I need before I’m allowed to leave you. I will confirm you ate. Have you slept? How long do you plan on staying? What is Maria’s prognosis? How long before she can come home?”

“You memorized all that?” I stand and take a few steps away so he’s not towering over me.

“Sure did. I’m not facing Jamal’s wrath,” he says, and I snort in disbelief. “What? He’s got a hard side.”

My answers are enough to satisfy him, and Mav calls with the intuition of a man who knows Theo has rounded the corner out of sight.

“Thanks for sending him. I was starving,” I say as a greeting.

His brow unfurrows in relief. “Wasn’t sure if you’d speak to me again. He’s the only one I trust left in the city,” he apologizes. “I’ll fly home the second I’m able.”

“Your team needs you. Besides, he’s not so bad when King isn’t in the room.” I slouch in a waiting room chair since Maria should sleep an hour or two more.

“Yeah, he’s psycho-level possessive of King. He wasn’t my favorite person when I got here, but he grows on you.”

“Yuck, I hope not.” My joke lands, and Mav grins at me.

“I miss you,” he confesses.

“I miss you too.” I kiss my screen. “And no phone sex tonight,” I say with a pout.

“Oh, Finn says the rumors of our relationship are going more mainstream, and he needs to confirm we’re still going with ‘no comment.’ ” His eyes dull because this stance hurts him.

“For now. Once you’re home for a longer stretch, we can talk. It’ll be too hard being here alone and making the confirmation.” My words put a sparkle in his eyes.

“Should I rent a billboard?” he teases.

“I’ll research prices and prime locations,” I deadpan.

“You were made for me.” Mav sighs happily.

“Hmm, in that case, maybe I should take you on a trip to the bathroom,” I say, and his eyes pop.

Chapter 27

Maverick Maher

Sky responds with a text to my call.

Angel: Meeting with doc call you later?

I reply with a heart emoji.

I’ve never hated away games more. I’m rethinking this career if I can’t get Sky to come to some of these. No wonder half my teammates are sleeping with someone connected to the team.

I knock on King’s door because he’s suffering without O’Keefe. No tiny violins playing in the background here. He opens the door with his phone to his ear.

“I was right. It’s Mav,” he says, presumably to O’Keefe, and stands aside so I can come in.

“What happened in here?” The bed is wrecked, and the comforter is on the floor.

“Mind your business,” O’Keefe quips.

“Sky’s with the doctor,” I whine.

King sits on the bed, back against the headboard, but I pace.