33. Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jordan
Three grand in change fees .
The unforgiving plastic beneath my ass creaks with each bounce of my leg.
Another eighteen hours before I’m home .
I swipe my palms down my pant leg.
Why does this hurt so bad?
Licking my dry lips, I clear my throat. Tip off my hat and slap it onto my knee.
He didn’t ask me to come.
My jaw clenches at how wrong I’ve been. How wrong I am.
These feelings, big and raw, grow with each passing moment that I sit in this airport, my ticket home like a burning coal in my pocket.
With a last-ditch effort to prove that shitty side of my brain correct, I pull out my phone.
He didn’t need me.
It takes three tries to get it unlocked with the shake in my hands.
As Above’s accounts are the first to pop up in the highlights of each social media platform I’m on.
And each one is like a finger digging into my chest, breaking skin, wiggling through bone. Each picture of Mac with someone else a successful stab. Every caption and comment an eradication of what once was. Overlayed by what now is.
Mac and Dare.
As Above and Banger together. The addition of Dare as Mac’s touring backup.
The rivals to friends story of a lifetime.
Announced today and I had no idea.
Why didn’t he tell me?
Did he replace me as his best friend that easily?
My throat constricts as I swipe away the apps and squeeze my eyes closed.
This can’t be true.
I’m dialing without looking, placing the phone to the side of my head on instinct.
It rings twice.
Two times before cutting to the voicemail greeting that used to make me smile.
Now, it just feels like another knife.
“Hey.” My voice shakes. “Just wanted to check in,” I lie. “Tell you the show was good—”
“ Now boarding for —”
“—I’ll see you when you get home,” I rush out before my voice cracks and hang up with a blur to my vision.