6. Real Distance #3
Maybe space was what she wanted.
I could give her that.
Seattle was one trip. One game. A few days. By the time I got back, she would have stopped somewhere long enough to sleep, cool down, and finally answer the phone. Then I could fly to her without the team and the media wondering why I vanished the night before travel.
That sounded reasonable.
More important, it sounded fixable.
Dad waited.
The handler watched me over the top of his tablet.
I opened my hand and looked at Piper’s ring a final time before sliding it into my pocket.
“You’re right. If she wants space, I am going to give her exactly what she’s asking for.”
Dad gave a short nod, already turning toward the foyer. The handler’s attention returned to the travel schedule as if I had just cleared another item from the night’s list.
I turned away from the kitchen and chose Seattle.
Before following them out, I looked back at the kitchen one last time. Piper’s dinner remained on the island, untouched, as I followed them down the hall.
“Grab your bag,” Dad said. “We can still make the departure window without turning this into a circus.”
“It’s already packed.”
The team bag had been sitting in the closet since that afternoon, ready for Seattle before any of this happened. I pulled it from the shelf and slung the strap over my good shoulder. The handler moved ahead of us with his tablet as I reached for the front door.
“I’ll tell the driver we’re coming out,” he said.
Dad answered before I could. “Tell him to keep the engine running.”
Cool autumn air met me on the front steps. The black SUV waited at the edge of the driveway with its lights on, idling beneath the security lamps while the handler walked toward it and opened the rear door.
For one second, I stopped outside the house.
Piper was somewhere on the interstate.
I had no idea what hotel she would choose, whether she had brought enough clothes, or whether she was still angry enough to keep driving until sunrise. The urge to call her again flared up, but I had already decided what that would accomplish.
Nothing.
If she wanted space, forcing myself into it would only make the fight worse.
“Callahan,” Dad said from beside the SUV. “We need to move.”
I adjusted the bag and crossed the driveway.
The handler reached for it. “Give me the bag. I’ll put it in the back.”
“I’ve got it.”
I opened the tailgate, tossed the bag inside, and shut it before climbing into the back seat. Dad took the seat across from me while the handler slid in beside the door, immediately tapping at his screen.
The SUV pulled away from the house.
My phone stayed in my pocket.
The handler looked up from the screen. “Do you want me to keep tracking the card in case it moves again?”
That was the first useful question anyone had asked since we left the kitchen.
“Yes.”
He waited.
I watched the gates pass by the window before turning back to him.
“Just monitor the Amex alerts so we know she’s safe. But don’t call her. I am not playing this game.”
The handler gave a short nod and typed something into the tablet.
“Consider it done, sir. We’ll be wheels up exactly on schedule, and the CEO is going to be thrilled with your dedication.”
“I don’t care what the CEO thinks tonight.”
Dad settled back into his seat. “You will tomorrow.”
I looked at him.
“That is my quarterback. You focus on the playbook and the cameras on the West Coast, and let her get this little road trip out of her system.”
The phrase bothered me.
Little road trip.
Piper had left her ring behind. She had ignored my call and driven far enough south to stop for gas. None of that felt little.
Still, Dad had spent my whole career dragging my attention back to the things I could control. Coverage reads. Protection schemes. Film. Preparation. If I started chasing everything outside that circle, I became useless to everyone depending on me.
Maybe this was the same.
Maybe Piper needed time more than she needed another argument.
The handler turned the tablet toward me. “Your offensive install is already loaded. The coordinator added the Seattle pressure packages from this morning’s review.”
I took the device from him and rested it on my lap.
Football made sense in a way the kitchen hadn’t.
A defense showed you what it was doing. You studied enough film, recognized the pressure, changed the protection, and made the throw. There was always an answer if you prepared for it.
Piper and I could have our answer after the game.
I would call her when we landed. If she still refused to answer, I would wait. Once Seattle was behind me and the week settled down, I could go wherever she had stopped and fix the mess face-to-face without cameras or team staff surrounding us.
A few days wouldn’t destroy a marriage we had spent years building.
That was what I told myself.
I buckled my seat belt as the tablet brightened on my lap. Outside the window, the estate gates opened and the SUV rolled onto the road toward the airport.
As the mansion disappeared behind us, I turned my mind toward Seattle and tried to believe Dad was right.