Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
After the game, the guys are in good spirits. It was a low-scoring game, but we were victorious, continuing our winning streak.
“Can I catch a ride to the bar?” Rhett asks.
He could easily go with someone else. Half the team is going to The Hideout to hang for a few hours.
We have another game tomorrow afternoon, so most of us will call it an early night.
There are a few guys on the team that can manage to party hard the night before a game and still function.
Okay, not a few—there’s Mav. Anyone else who tries to keep up with him tonight will be sitting their ass on the bench tomorrow or puking out their guts between periods.
“Sure, whatever. I’m not staying out long.”
“You always say that, and yet you never leave until you make sure everyone else is headed home and safe.” He smirks.
“Not tonight.”
My head hurts. No, scratch that. My whole body hurts.
Ever since last night when Reagan lashed out, kicked my fucking chest in, I feel like I can’t breathe.
She was waiting for me to screw up, for us to end, just like all my other relationships.
I guess I can’t blame her, but damn, I didn’t realize she’d been holding on to it.
Or that she thought so little of me. Why would she want to be with me at all if she really believed that?
Then I remember, she doesn’t want to be with me anymore, so I guess that makes sense.
It still feels like a dream. What the hell happened? I mean, okay, I know what happened, but I don’t understand why all of a sudden everything between us means nothing? I don’t know whether or not to fight for her or back off. She’s always got me second-guessing myself, and I really hate that.
That prickling sensation and nausea hit me hard. I fight it, wish it away, but it builds and builds. It’s always been the same. Every relationship gets to this point where I feel sick to my stomach. Usually, it’s because I’ve realized it won’t work, but now… I’m just gutted.
I scan the bar as we enter. Ginny and a few other girlfriends of guys on the team are seated at our usual table.
No Reagan. That awful feeling takes over, and I can no longer push it away, thinking that maybe it was just a stupid fight and we both needed time to cool off.
Nah. It’s really over. Feels like it’s done before it ever really started.
So many things I still want to do with her.
“Congrats on the game.” Ginny stands as I get to the table and hugs me.
“Thanks.”
She pulls back and searches my face. I know that look. A concerned Ginny is an unusually stubborn Ginny. “Are you okay?”
“Yup,” I say. I take one of the empty glasses on the table and pour myself a beer. I nod and say hello to everyone. I make a lap around the bar. It’s easier to fake quick, easy conversation than fall into something deep or meaningful with the people who know what’s going on.
“Dakota’s not here?” I ask Rhett as I refill my glass for the third or fourth time.
“Not that I’ve seen. She was at the game, though.”
I nod.
“I think I’m about ready to go,” he says. “You want to head out?”
I mull that over. Go back to the apartment where Reagan is ten feet away, and I might run into her or stay here where she isn’t and drink?
The choice is obvious. I’d rather be far away, so the physical distance matches the emotional.
Being that close, knowing she’s there but doesn’t want to see me, makes that awful churn in my gut worse.
“No, I think I’m going to stay. You go ahead. I’m sure Heath and Ginny are headed back soon.” Those two never stay out long anymore.
He looks like he might want to say something, but Rhett always chooses his words carefully—mulls them over before speaking. I take advantage of that and walk away before he figures out what he wants to say.
I find Maverick at the bar. He’s got three shots in front of him. Jordan and Liam are cheering him on. Liam’s got his phone out, taking video of the whole thing.
Maverick contemplates which glass to take and settles on the one in the middle. He tosses it back and then grins. “Rumple!”
He dances around playing eeny-meeny-miney-mo with the remaining two.
“What’s he doing?” I ask Liam.
“Shot roulette.”
Oh fuck. “Tequila?”
“No.” He chuckles, then whispers, “Cheap ass vodka.”
My lip curls.
Maverick wraps his fingers around the glass on the right and closes his eyes as he takes it. “Oooooheeee,” he says as he drops the empty back on the bar. “Triple Sec.”
“Fuck,” Jordan curses as Maverick slides the last shot to him.
“Yo, Scott.” He claps me on the shoulder. “I’m unbeatable, Cap.”
“Getting the team fucked up, are we?”
Jordan shoots the vodka and then gags. He shudders. “My insides are on fire.”
“Another?” Mav asks him.
Jordan and Liam look to me and shake their heads.
“I’m in,” I say. “But I get to pick the shots.”
“Hell yeah.” Maverick’s excitement should tell me just how bad of an idea this is but fuck it.
Maverick goes to the bathroom while I order three shots from the bartender. “Anything else?” she asks with a smile.
“No, I think we’re good after this. You can run my card.”
When we’re set to go again, we attract an audience. The guys on the team who are still at the bar crowd around, which pulls the attention of everyone else.
“Mav! Mav! Mav!” they chant as he selects the first shot.
It goes quiet as he brings it to his lips. He smiles and wipes the back of his mouth. “White wine. Nice, Scott. Classy choice.”
I smirk.
The bar gets noisy again. Maverick eats up the attention, hopping around and making a big show out of trying to decide which shot to take next.
“Which one?” he asks the bartender.
“Oh no.” She holds her hands up. “You’re on your own.”
“How fucked am I if I choose wrong?”
Her eyes flit to me, and she grins. “Pretty fucked. Sorry.”
That makes everyone howl with laughter. He exhales a breath that puffs out his cheeks and grabs the shot glass on the left, tosses it back quickly. I don’t know which shot is which at this point, so I’m waiting to see his reaction just like everyone else.
He lifts his hands overhead in victory. “Coconut vodka!”
Excited cheers ring out. A few people slap my back, commiserating. Oh shit.
The bartender laughs. “Looks like you’re the one that’s fucked.”
Maverick sniffs the remaining glass before handing it over. “What is it?”
“Rum and tequila,” I mutter before shooting it. It burns all the way down, and I cough.
Maverick slings an arm around my neck. “You’re fucking crazy, Scott.”
We stay away from shots after that, but Maverick and I linger until we’re the last guys on the team at the bar. Ann, the bartender, is closing out tabs, and servers are wiping tables.
“Another?” I ask him, lifting my almost empty glass.
He shakes his head. “You outdrank me. Congratulations.”
“Do you guys have a ride?” Ann asks.
I feel around for my phone. I haven’t touched it all night, but it’s there in my front pocket. “I’ll grab us an Uber.”
Mav puts some cash in the tip jar and stands. “I already texted Dakota. She’s coming to get us.”
“Dakota?” My mouth goes dry.
“Reagan isn’t with her.”
“I wasn’t…” I start.
Mav chuckles. “Come on, Scott. It’s been a long night.”
I sway on my feet. My buddy is quick to grab an arm and steady me.
“Not so sure out drinking you was a good idea.”
“That’s what the last guy said. Then he kissed me.”
I lift my head, which has suddenly become really heavy, to check to see if he’s serious.
That’s the thing about Maverick. He never seems serious, but I’ve never known him to lie or exaggerate either.
He’s unfiltered and honest, but the dude’s fucking crazy too, so his truths always feel a little ridiculous.
“That’s a story for another time,” Mav says and opens the door for me.
“On a scale of one to ten, how pissed is Dakota?” I ask when I spot her car pulling into the parking lot.
He doesn’t answer until she stops in front of us. “Why else do you think she’d agree to come get us?”
Pulling open the passenger side door, Mav slides into the seat. “Dakota, baby.”
He rolls down the window. “You coming?”
Walking is starting to sound like a better choice. Especially when I make eye contact with Dakota and she glowers at me.
“Get in, Scott,” she says, and I obey. It’s a long walk to the apartment.
“Thanks for coming to get us,” I say as I buckle up.
“Missed you tonight.” Maverick plays with the radio until he finds a song he likes. He sits back and drums his hands on his legs. “What’d you do?”
“Oh, you know, held my best friend’s hand while she cried her eyes out.” Dakota’s eyes find mine in the rearview mirror.
Even as the image of Reagan crying kicks me in the gut, I can’t help asking for more. “How is she?”
Dakota doesn’t answer.
Mav looks over his shoulder at me and then asks her again, “How is she?”
“She’ll be fine, but right now, she’s a mess.”
I swallow thickly.
“Anything we can do?”
Dakota meets my gaze in the mirror again. “Yeah, leave her be.”
I consider doing that until we get back. I linger behind Dakota as she opens her apartment door. She stops and glares at me. “She’ll talk to you when she’s ready.”
“But—”
“Unless you’re going to walk in there and tell her that she’s the one and nothing is going to come between you, then walk away. She’s going through some shit. She can’t take any more heartbreak.”
“Yeah, all right.” I mumble my thanks for the ride, and she leaves me standing outside by myself. I know she’s right, but I just want to see her, talk to her, comfort her any way I can. Maybe I should be angry with her, but I can’t manage it.
Instead, I tuck tail and go to my place. Ginny and Heath are on the couch, lying together, watching a movie.
Ginny lifts her head from Heath’s chest. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I go to the kitchen and grab a glass of water, chug it, and then fill another to take to my room.
Ginny steps into my room as I go to shut the door.
“I’m tired, G.”
She holds out her hand. “I brought you some Tylenol. I heard you drank Maverick under the table.”
I take them with a nod of thanks. “Hardly under the table. He had to help me out of the bar.”
Ginny snorts and sits on my bed. I kick off my shoes and lie down. I slept like shit last night, and the exhaustion I’ve kept at bay all day finally starts to set in.
“Have you talked to her?”
“No. Dakota made it clear she didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Made it clear that Reagan didn’t want to talk to you or that she didn’t want you to?”
I shrug. “Kind of the same thing.”
“What happened?”
“Do we have to talk about this now?” I rub at the ache in my chest.
“You love her. I know that you do. Whatever happened, don’t give up so easily.”
“She ended things with me, so maybe you should be having this conversation with her.”
“Oh, I will, but something tells me that Reagan isn’t going to be the one to make a move here. It’s up to you.”
“Up to me to what? Beg her to feel something for me that she obviously doesn’t?
To trust me?” The things she said, the way she looked at me…
I get that she was hurting, but she took all the things I told her I didn’t want to be and tossed them in my face.
“Maybe she’s right. Reagan’s been through some shit.
We are her family. You and Dakota especially. I don’t want to fuck that up for her.”
“You keep saying that this time things are different, but from everything I’ve seen, you’re doing exactly what you always do.” Ginny stands. “You want to prove she’s different, now is your chance.”