I nod, though she certainly can’t see me. “Okay, well, thanks. I guess… I’ll talk to you later.”
Erin and I have become good friends. But she’s known Miles longer; she works with him every day, poring over data and statistics. Making mission plans, extraction plans. The kind of work that requires a team to be tight and trust to be absolute.
“Chloe—”
If she knows something, there’s no doubt where her loyalty lies.
“Gotta run.” I disconnect and send a message to Miles.
Chloe: Missed you today. I’m going to order Chinese for dinner if you want to come over.
I glance up at the window where I thought I saw movement, but there’s nothing. Not even the hint of a shadow.
Rock,Paper, Scissors for the extra egg roll was probably a huge mistake last night. Or maybe the General Tso’s chicken was a bad idea. Either way, dinner didn’t sit well with me, and I feelicky. Because it certainly can’t be nerves over going to the last rugby game of the season.
From the back of the car, my parents pull a tailgating tent, a table, camp chairs, a cooler, and several boxes of snacks. It’s officially an end-of-season party in the Franks’ tent.
“I think you might have gone a little overboard,” I say as I help arrange bowls and platters on the table.
My dad huffs through his nose, and Mom laughs.
“It’s a special day, Chloe. Look at how much our boy has changed since coming to the South.” She stands at the edge of the rugby pitch, hands on her hips. Her cropped gingham pants, peasant blouse, and neat silver bob are such a contrast to the way she growls, “Wrap him up and take him down, Jacob.” With three short claps, she turns and wanders back under the shade and fusses, “It’s hotter than Hades out here. We should’ve brought the fan and mister. Chloe, baby, put more of those drinks on ice, would you?”
She is in her element, making a party out of my kid’s rugby game. No doubt she’s got enough to feed both teams and their families.
“Who’s that talking to the boys?” Dad asks. “Thought you said Miles was going to be back in time for the game. Where’d he go again?”
“California.” I look down the sideline and see Tyler Amarre running the team along with another boy’s dad. Miles is nowhere to be seen. “He was supposed to be back, but he must’ve gotten caught up.”
There’s no doubt something is up, but I hate that I have no idea what it is. Since we’ve started seeing each other, not a day has gone by when we don’t speak, let alone shoot a million and one messages back and forth.
Talking to Erin didn’t help matters, and no matter how bad it makes me feel, as soon as the game is done, I’m going to corner Tyler and grill him for information.
Almost three days.
Just shy of seventy-two hours actually.
I’ve officially been ghosted.
“Mom, what do we have for dessert? I’m starving.”
Of course he’s starving. Not even an official teenager yet, and Jake is eating me out of house and home.
“I think there are some cookies left from Nonna’s rugby party yesterday,” I say absently. My phone has remained disappointingly silent, though that doesn’t stop me from checking it several times an hour.
Tyler had nothing to tell me after the game yesterday. Just that Miles had emailed Erin and asked if Tyler was able to fill in as coach. Erin had nothing further than that. No explanation. No information. No message.
Jake walks through the living room, one hand filled with what’s likely the last of the cookies, and gives me a flyby hug. “Night, Mom.”
“You’re going to bed already?” I glance at my phone again and check the time. No new notifications.
“Mmhmm. Shower after I finish these and then…” The rest of his sentence is lost in a mumble around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie.
“Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” I call after him.
Bronson lifts his head, ears perked forward and stubby tail twitching against my foot. I follow his gaze out the front window, hoping the headlights coming down the street pull into mydriveway but they don’t. Bronson puts his head down on my knee and sighs.
“I hear you, buddy.” I flip his ears back, so he looks like he’s got them slicked back.
