Chapter 48
forty-eight
. . .
CONNOR
On tour, having Whitney felt easy. Back in Coral Cove, it starts to feel real.
Pussy is pissed at me for being gone, which she makes clear the second Vivi hands her over on the sidewalk outside my rental house.
She yowls once like I’ve committed a personal offense, then climbs straight up my chest and hooks herself there with all four paws like she’s making sure I can’t leave again.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, shifting her higher under one arm while Vivi passes me her food container and gives me a look. “I missed you, too.”
“You better have,” Vivi says. “She judged me the whole time.”
Pussy turns her face into my neck and purrs like she’s never suffered a day in her life.
“Traitor,” Vivi says.
I laugh, low and tired, and glance down at the cat clinging to me like a furry furnace. “She has expensive taste.”
“Sure.” Vivi snorts. “By the way, you look wrecked.”
That should probably embarrass me more than it does.
Instead, my mind flashes, immediate and unhelpful, to a hotel shower in Wilmington. Whitney’s fingers on my ribs. Her voice catching when she realized the tattoo is more than what she thought. The look on her face after, soft and stunned and enough to get under my skin all over again.
Then her words after she found out the truth.
You know you have me now, right?
Yeah, wrecked is one word for it.
“Long week,” I say.
Vivi’s mouth twitches like she knows better, but she lets it go. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I nod, shifting Pussy again when she climbs higher, and head inside with my duffel over one shoulder and my cat making little offended noises into my collarbone because apparently being reunited is not enough. She also needs to narrate it.
Inside, the house still smells the same—salt air sneaking in through the old wood, detergent, cat food, chlorine still trapped in my gear—but it doesn’t feel the same. Or maybe I don’t.
I set my bag down, let Pussy loose, and she immediately patrols the place like she’s checking for violations. Her tail flicks once at my shoes by the door, confirming judgment.
My phone buzzes before I can even sit down.
Leo
You back?
Just got in.
Leo
Good. Your training stay on track?
Yup, and I’m back with the Current tomorrow.
Leo
Good. Stay focused. Pro Series is what matters now. Keep your head down, stay out of trouble, and don’t make me or Vivi babysit grown-man decisions.
You always know how to make a guy feel trusted.
Leo
Earn it.
That’s Leo. No speech, no warm-up, just a reminder that I’ve worked too hard to start acting stupid again.
Then his last text comes through.
Leo
No distractions this week.
For a moment, I think about confiding in him about Whitney. She isn’t a distraction, but to Leo she would be. And I’m not ready to hand us over to anyone yet. Not when it still feels too new, too private, too much like something I want to keep between us a little longer.
And right now, she’s mine in the quiet way we agreed on.
My phone lights up again.
Whitney
Did Pussy survive Vivi? Or the other way around?
I grin before I can stop myself.
Barely. She’s dramatic and clingy.
Whitney
Sounds familiar.
You saying you miss me?
Whitney
I’m saying your cat has range. Also, yes.
My chest squeezes at those last two words.
Come over?
There’s a pause before her response comes through.
Whitney
Can’t tonight. Rory and Summer invited me over for dinner so Rory can get caught up on the tour happenings.
Whitney
Don’t make that face.
What face? We’re texting.
Whitney
I can sense it. It’s the one where you go all quiet and broody.
Not brooding. Just miss you.
Whitney
I miss you too. We’ll survive until morning. Even if you have to stare at me from six lanes over like a creep.
Already planning on it.
Whitney
I know. You’re kind of obvious.
Don’t care.
I drop my phone onto the couch and stare at the ceiling while Pussy stretches across my lap like a weighted blanket with claws.
That’s the problem, I guess. Tour was chaos, but it was contained chaos. Hotels. Events. Workouts. Excuses to always be near Whitney. Here, everything has edges again. Schedules. Separate houses. The team. Rory.
Real life.