Chapter Twenty-five
Ashton stood in line for airport security and scrolled through the texts she and Razor had exchanged throughout the conference, mainly comments about certain panels they ended up attending together, even though they weren’t in the same room.
If a speaker made an interesting comment, Razor texted, She makes a good point.
If the speaker was monotone, she texted, Wake me up when they get to something interesting.
No outright sexting, though even flirting was torture.
As fun as it was getting to know Razor in a way that promoted a strong foundation, Ashton was on pins and needles to see if another text from the unknown number would pop up with more pictures of Razor and Summer together.
She didn’t let the texts consume her mind, especially since no more were sent after the first night, but she couldn’t help but wonder who was actively trying to undermine her relationship with Razor. And why?
As she reached the front of the security line, two new lines opened up, and she slipped her phone in her bag, and cruised through.
She retrieved her bag, put her shoes back on, and pulled her phone out to continue her text scroll.
There was a new text, but she was relieved when she saw it was from Nancy.
But the relief was short-lived when a video popped up with Razor in freeze-frame.
A shudder ran through Ashton’s body as she hit play and saw Razor standing toe-to-toe with an umpire.
The sound made the picture so much worse. Razor was yelling and bumping the umpire’s chest, all while his nose bled profusely and people tried to pull her away. Did Razor hit him?
Ashton dialed Razor’s number and huffed as it went straight to voicemail. Frustrated, she called Nancy.
Nancy’s first words were “I’m guessing you got my message.”
“Yeah. What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know. One minute Razor is throwing out a base stealer. The next the home plate umpire has a broken nose.”
“Are you saying Razor punched him?”
“I don’t think she did it on purpose,” Nancy said. “All I know is he was not happy and threw Razor out of the game. That’s when she shoved him.”
Ashton whirled around the airport. That didn’t sound like Razor. She wasn’t a violent person. Well, not unless…
“Nancy, did the umpire do or say anything to set Razor off?”
“Um…no, I don’t think so. Why?”
Ashton felt dizzy, but she still had her wits about her. “No reason. Has anyone talked to her?”
“Not yet. That happened in the first game, and the second is about to start.”
Ashton exhaled and looked up. She caught the departure board and saw her flight had started the boarding process. “I need to catch my flight. Keep me posted if anything else develops.”
“I will. And Ashton?” Nancy paused. “I’m sorry.”
Ashton was confused why Nancy was apologizing, but she accepted it nonetheless. “Nothing to apologize for. Just keep an eye on Razor for me.”
“Will do. Have a safe flight.”
Ashton took a deep breath and ran down the corridor to her gate, arriving just as her boarding group was announced.
As she took her seat by the window, she tried desperately to keep her fears from washing over her.
She stared at the phone in her hand and dialed Razor’s number.
With every ring, her anxiety ratcheted up.
When it went to voicemail again, her stomach was in her throat.
“Shit.”
* * *
Razor had used her ejection preparing to leave as soon the Hornets finished their second game.
Not surprisingly, they lost. She’d stayed long enough to hear Courtney’s postgame spiel and get some condolences from her team that ranged from I’m sorry to You should sue his ass!
That last one from Tori made her smile for a moment. Then, she dragged herself to her truck.
The day’s only saving grace was that her required one game suspension was served immediately. But the whole incident left her mentally and physically on edge.
As she dropped her bag into her truck bed, she heard heavy footsteps.
That asshole umpire wanted to make good on his earlier threat, didn’t he.
She palmed her key ring and held her truck key firmly between her thumb and index finger, turning it into an improvised weapon.
Then she spun around and lunged toward her would-be attacker.
“Whoa. It’s just me.” Bill Storm immediately backed up with his hands in the air. All the fight drained from Razor’s body, and she lowered her fist.
“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“Don’t worry. He left about twenty minutes ago.”
“Good.”
She slumped against the side of her truck. Bill joined her. “I saw what happened out there. That umpire had no business calling a game.”
“He wasn’t doing anything illegal.”
“Grabbing a player is illegal unless it’s to restrain them in a medical emergency or for their safety. That was not his intent when he grabbed you.”
Razor’s head shot up. “You saw that?”
“Yes, ma’am. No wonder he got clocked.”
She felt a sense of relief, but it didn’t erase her guilt for getting tossed and costing her team the game.
“Are you waiting for Summer?”
“No, I stuck around because I wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m meeting her at Pizza Chef. Said she had something important to tell me and wanted to meet up for dinner to do it. You wouldn’t happen to know what that is, would you?”
She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Off in the distance, they heard someone yell, “Hey Summer! Good game.” The familiar timbre of Summer’s voice answering, “Thanks,” floated nearby, and Bill smiled.
“Oh. I guess she finished up her postgame stuff early.”
He bounded over to the next aisle, then stopped abruptly. Razor walked up behind him, ready to ask what was wrong, when she saw it. Summer and Harper kissing.
“Summer!” Bill called sharply. The two girls immediately jerked apart. “Who’s this?”
Summer looked to Harper, then Razor. She had the same fear in her eyes that she had at the pizza parlor a few weeks ago.
But, unlike then, she didn’t stumble over her words.
Nor did she try to explain what Bill saw.
Instead, she laced her fingers with Harper’s, held her head high, and looked her dad in the eye.
“This is Harper. My girlfriend.”
Razor looked at Bill and saw sadness.
“What are you saying, Summer?”
Summer breathed deep. “I’m gay, dad. I’ve been dating Harper for months.”
“You’ve been dating this girl for months, and you’re just now telling me?”
“Dad…”
“No,” he said. “I can’t believe you kept something like this from me. I…” He looked angry, confused, then suddenly resigned. “I can’t handle this right now.”
He pushed Summer aside and climbed into his truck. Summer stopped the door from swinging shut.
“Dad, please, let me explain.”
“No, I can’t…not right now.”
“Dad,” she pleaded. “Please, don’t do this.”
Bill’s eyes shone with tears. “I’m disappointed.”
Summer stepped back, and he slammed the door shut, then peeled out of the parking lot. She stood unmoving, the tears the only indication she was human. Harper walked up and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, but Summer shrugged her off.
“You said everything would be okay.”
Harper stammered. “I’m sorry. I…”
Summer turned sharply. “Sorry? You’re sorry?”
“I didn’t think…”
“That’s right, you didn’t think.”
She turned back and watched the end of the parking lot, her hands grabbing her hair and pulling hard. Her lower lip trembled, and tears silently began to fall as she crumpled to the ground. She hugged her legs and quietly sobbed.
Razor looked around. A small crowd had formed. She walked over and grabbed Summer by the shoulders.
“Summer, let’s go.”
Slowly, Summer stood up, silent sobs wracking her body, and Razor guided her over to her truck. She helped Summer into the cab and placed a light, chaste kiss on her brow before shutting the door. Razor turned and saw Harper, her own tears staining her cheeks.
“Razor, I’m sorry, I never thought…That is, I never meant…”
“I know, I know. It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yes, I did, and now she hates me.”
Razor grabbed her arms. “Listen to me. Summer doesn’t hate you. I promise you everything will be fine. For now, I need to get her someplace safe, and I want you to go back to your dorm, okay? Can you do that?”
Harper nodded.
“Good. I’ll let you know how she’s doing.” She turned Harper toward the complex, then climbed into the driver’s seat. She checked the rearview mirror and looked at her passenger, hunched in despair and pain.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said. The tires squealed as she headed for home.
* * *
Ashton entered her house and went through her post-travel checklist: unpack suitcase, dirty clothes in hamper, clean ones in the closet. She’d picked up dinner before she’d left Memphis, so no need for that.
She’d gotten back later than expected, thanks to her pilot deciding to fly around a severe thunderstorm instead of through it, adding an extra two hours of flight time.
She’d called Razor as soon as she landed and got no response, no text or voicemail during the drive back either, and all that did was allow Ashton’s fears to fester.
As she reached for her cell to put this unease to rest once and for all, the screen lit up with the same unknown number and a new message.
I warned you.
Ashton’s pulse accelerated. Pictures of Razor and Summer filled her screen.
They were in the parking lot at the field, and they were photographed from behind, but she could clearly see Razor’s face when she turned.
Razor had her arm around Summer’s shoulders and kissed her on the head.
Ashton gasped at the last one showing Summer climbing into Razor’s truck.
She took a deep breath and redialed Razor’s number. She needed to let Razor know what was happening, but it went straight to voicemail.
“Razor. It’s Ashton. Call me as soon as you get this. We have a problem.”
* * *