Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
Leighton
“Hey, you know what to do.” I get Hayes’s voicemail after a few rings.
“Hey, it’s me again. I’m not even sure if you’ll get this, but please call me as soon as you do. I know it was a rough day, but it’s only one game. Please… just call me.”
“Voicemail again?” Callie asks, and I nod.
We’re in the corner of the kitchen, as Lake’s friends do a scavenger hunt through the house and backyard. I’ve fed them. Callie and I took turns painting their nails. I put on ten face masks.
“I’m gonna call.” Callie steps away from me, grabbing her phone off the counter and dialing her brother.
I’d be surprised if he picked up for her and not me.
I have no idea why he isn’t here at the party.
My only assumption is that it was a horrible game today.
They were leading in the top of the ninth when Foster came in to get only two outs.
O’Leary hit a single to third that got by Decker, and one run came in.
Although Decker made a great throw to Hayes, he didn’t get the tag down, and another runner scored.
After that, it looked as though they were so shaken up, they couldn’t come back.
In the bottom of the ninth, when the Colts had a chance to get the run back, Easton struck out, Decker struck out, Torres walked, and Hayes worked it to a full count before ultimately striking out. Game over. Colts lose.
But it’s not as if he hasn’t had a bad game or a loss while we’ve been together. Sure, he’ll seem a little down, but he can easily be cheered up. It’s just not like him to let me, and especially one of the kids, down. I can’t believe he’s not here. Or that he hasn’t called.
Callie sets her phone down and shakes her head.
“Who is his emergency contact? Should we call hospitals?” My stomach flips over at the thought, remembering when I received the call about Skylar and Patrick.
Callie frowns. “I’d call my mom, but I don’t want to worry her yet. Plus, if anyone called her, she’d call me right away.”
I nod. That’s true. The Carlisles always keep one another in the loop.
A rush of girls storm through the back door, running toward the staircase.
Lake lingers as her friends try to find the next item upstairs. “So, he’s not coming?”
“He’s just late. Maybe there was a meeting after the game.” I hate making excuses for Hayes. I understand that sometimes things come up, or whatever it is, but a phone call would at least tell me he’s not dead.
“Great.” She throws up her hands. “Now I’m a liar. I told them all three Colts players were coming, and they acted like I was lying all week.”
“Lake…” Even Callie is at a loss for words.
The newly minted twelve-year-old huffs and storms away.
I sigh, picking up my phone and redialing him. “Hey, you know what to do.” I slam my phone on the counter.
“Hey, I know. Believe me, if he’s not dead in a ditch, his balls are mine.” Callie wraps her arms around my shoulders.
Every scenario runs through my mind, but one haunting suspicion that isn’t fair to Hayes is the fact that Foster Davis is back.
Could they both be wallowing over a bad game in some bar and—no.
I can’t assume he’s cheating or out tying one on.
I know Hayes, and he wouldn’t do that. He just made love to me last night, whispering how much I mean to him.
Still, the familiar feeling of disappointment mixed with dread swamps my system. My chest feels tight, and it makes me jittery.
But it makes no sense why he would be late.
A fucking phone call. Would it kill him?