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He remained silent on the way to my place, though he let me hold his hand as much as I could while driving.
“Do you want some food or anything?” I asked once we were inside.
He shook his head. “Let’s just go to bed.”
Whatever he wanted. “Okay.”
We undressed and climbed into bed. This time, though, I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him tight. He took my hand in both of his and clutched it to his chest.
He didn’t talk, and I didn’t force it. Instead, I nuzzled the back of his head and occasionally kissed his neck. “It’s going to be fine.”
It wasn’t.
When the alarm went off, he wasn’t there.
On the desk in the living room was a note. I’m sorry was all it said.
Fuck.
TWENTY-NINE
KYLE
“WHAT THE HELL is wrong with you? You haven’t said anything to him since you left a note a week ago?” G asked, raising his voice.
I did to Austin exactly what he’d done to me—ghosted him when I shouldn’t have. “I don’t know what to do. The longer it goes, the worst it is, but I was terrible to him. At least he stopped texting a couple days ago.”
We sat across from each other at Denny’s. This was our hang out place since forever. Practice and Denny’s. Game and Denny’s. Sneaking out of the house once I could drive and Denny’s. We still did it after games anytime we could.
Tonight, G was in Phoenix and had the overnight here. We kind of stood out since we wore suits. A couple of people recognized him—that magazine fame—when we came in and had gotten his autograph.
Garrett shook his head. “I don’t even know what to say. You of all people aren’t someone who does this.”
I grunted.
“Is that the best you’ve got?”
“It’s all I’ve got. Mom, Bobby, and you—all have given variations of the same lecture. I’m not cut out to do this—at least not right now.”
“Bullshit.”
G got that right.
I didn’t know how to fix my colossal fuck up. It impacted everything.
I wanted to call. To apologize. To find out how he was doing and how the company was doing.
It impacted my game too, which is not what my new team deserved. My last two games sucked—riddled with errors. Luckily, I’d only cost us a single goal, but I hadn’t contributed any. If I’d been the coach, I’d have benched me. Of course it wouldn’t look good to bench the highly touted new arrival.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. It wasn’t anyone I knew, so I let it go.
“Next time I’m home, I’ll try to see him. At least end things better than we did. I owe him that. In two weeks, I’ve got a stretch of off days and I’ll be home, so we can talk face-to-face.”
“You can’t let this sit. It’s only going to make you crazy.”
The phone rang again. Who was calling so late? I pulled the phone and saw a Detroit number I didn’t recognize. G and I traded shrugs, and I swiped to answer.
“Hello?”
