31. Bridgette
Bridgette
I ’m having one of those days where nothing is going my way. I had two client no-shows at work, and there was a pop quiz in psych that I wasn’t totally prepared for.
And my boyfriend is suddenly acting like I don’t exist.
He hasn’t answered any of the texts I sent yesterday, and when I messaged this morning to see if he was okay, all I got was the thumb-up emoji.
What the hell?
It’s so unlike him that I’m starting to worry. Dutton Wagner gives new meaning to the word attentive. We’ve been stuck together like glue since our first date, so it doesn’t make any sense that he just stopped communicating all of a sudden.
Maybe he’s sick? That could totally be what’s happening. It’s flu season. Maybe he came down with a nasty bug.
Whatever it is, I’m going to figure it out. Maybe those no-show clients were a sign from the universe that I need to get my ass to the hockey house and check on my boyfriend. And who am I to ignore the universe?
The house is mostly empty when I arrive, but Deano’s on his way out, so I say a quick hello and head for the stairs. Dutton’s door is open, and he’s not lying in bed with a fever. He’s sitting at his desk with his laptop open, typing away.
“What the hell?”
When he turns toward the sound of my voice, I realize that I said the words aloud.
“Oh, hey,” he says, looking surprised to see me.
I’m seriously beginning to wonder if he’s been abducted by aliens or something because he’s not acting like himself at all.
“Did you see my messages?” I blurt.
“Yeah,” he answers, palming his phone. “Sorry about not getting back to you last night. I got busy, then I fell asleep.”
“Okay,” I say. “But you barely texted back this morning.” I hate the words that are coming out of my mouth right now. They make me sound needy and whiny, and that’s not how I feel. “I’m confused,” I admit. “It’s not like you to be out of touch like that. I thought something was wrong.”
Dutton looks up at me for a second before turning his eyes back to his computer screen. “I just got busy. Finals are coming up, and my practice schedule is crazy. I’ve just got a lot going on right now. Nothing’s wrong.”
His words make sense, but something feels off. I just can’t figure out what it is. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid.
“Well,” I say, taking a calming breath because I clearly need one, “the good news is that break starts tomorrow, so you should have a little time to relax.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he half-heartedly agrees, still locked in on his laptop screen.
“You will,” I insist. “We’ll be with your family tomorrow, and I’m pretty sure it’s a requirement to veg out on the couch and watch football. I’ll snuggle up next to you, and we can just take it easy.”
I feel the air in the room shift when Dutton looks up at me. “I don’t think dinner with my family is going to work out.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, completely certain I’m in a parallel universe right now.
He sighs deeply. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s got nothing to do with you. My mom was planning on having a big dinner, but she changed her mind and wants it to be low-key. You should head to Coach’s house with the crew. You’ll probably have more fun there anyway.”
“You don’t want me to meet your family?” I ask, disbelief coloring my words.
“It’s not that,” he assures me. “We’ll just do it another time.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, trying like hell to connect the pieces of this puzzle.
And just that quickly, it all falls into place.
“Oh, my god. I knew this was going to happen. I knew it. It’s the whole reason I wanted to keep thighs quiet at first. We were just getting to know each other, and I said that we shouldn’t go public until we knew it was going to last. And I was right, wasn’t I? ”
“No,” he says, but that one weak little word does nothing to convince me.
“This is exactly what I was afraid of,” I said, my voice quavering. “But you told me you were all in. You convinced me. I almost ruined my relationship with Bran, and now, a few months in, you’re just calling it quits? What the hell is going on?”
“I’m not calling it quits,” he says, holding my gaze.
“But you don’t want me to meet your family?” I prod.
“Look, we should talk about this later. You’re upset, and I’ve got a paper to finish. We should?—”
“No,” I say, cutting off his words. “I don’t think we should talk about this later. I don’t think we have anything left to talk about.”
I turn and hustle down the stairs, ignoring Dutton when he calls after me.
I feel so stupid, and when I finally make it out of his house, there’s only one person I want to talk to, one person who will understand. I unlock my phone and type out a message to Bran.
Birdie : I hate it when you’re right.