“Why’s that?”
“People who seem squeaky clean like that are usually the ones hiding skeletons in their closets.”
Morgan takes another sip of her drink. It almost seems like she’s in a hurry to finish it. Hopefully that’s because she’s in a hurry to get away from this guy, but when she looks over at him and her smile turns into a laugh, I’m left wondering if she’s in a hurry to leavewithhim.
“So is this why you’re less of an asshole this season? Are you...happy?” McCabe spits the word out like he never thought he’d use it in reference to me.
“Am I really that big of a dick normally?”
“Yes. This season, less so. I’ve been trying to figure out what’s different, and I finally see it. Love changes you in funny ways.”
“I’m not in love,” I say quickly, almost on autopilot.
“Sure you’re not.”
His words are followed by a low rumble of laughter that attracts AJ’s attention, and she turns back to us from a conversation she was having with Colt and MacIntyre. The rookie went down to the bar, picked up six girls, and brought them back to the VIP section. AJ and Colt decided to talk to him about etiquette, but I’m not sure the kid is willing to learn.
“Morgan’s still here? Ohhhh...” She drags out the word like she’s sharing a juicy piece of gossip.
“What the heck?” McCabe asks with a chuckle.
“Oh, just... that’s the guy who was hitting on Morgan back at the arena. I told him we’d be here tonight, but... I thoughthe told her he couldn’t stop by and would see her in Boston instead.”
She’s made plans to see him back in Boston?I focus on taking a slow, deep breath as the edges of my vision cloud.Breathe.
I tell my friends I’m going to head to the bathroom, and then I bypass the bar on my way to the back hallway with the Restrooms sign hanging above it.
Aidan
Lose that guy, and meet me in my hotel room.
Now that I’m away from the balcony, there’s no way to know if she’s read the message or not. But she doesn’t respond, which ratchets up my anxiety.This is why you don’t do relationships, I remind myself.No one can leave you if you don’t let them get close in the first place.
When I make it back to the balcony, Morgan is no longer at the bar. Then again, neither is the guy she was sitting next to. There’s no way I can ask AJ or McCabe if she left with that guy without completely blowing our cover, so instead I tell them I’m beat, and I’m going to go back to my room to catch some sleep before our flight tomorrow morning. AJ seems pleased with my choice, because two seasons ago, I would have been closing down this bar. McCabe, though, can barely contain his smirk.
When I exit the bar, Morgan is alone at the end of the block trying to hail a cab. Instead, I flag one down about ten yards before it gets to her, and when she turns to give me a nasty look for stealing her cab, I tell her to get in.
She bites the corner of her lip, looking like she wants to decline, but the chilly late October breeze whips down the street, blowing her hair around her face as she shivers.
“Get in the taxi, Morgan.” My words are practically a growl, and I don’t like that I sound as angry as I feel right now.
Her sigh is deep as she takes the last few steps toward me. I don’t know whysheseems mad at me, but I’ve got a few minutes alone with her in the back of this car to find out.
“What’s going on?” I ask her once we’re settled in the back seat.
With her eyes closed, she rests her head against the seat. It’s close to midnight and I’m sure she must be tired. Unlike me, she probably didn’t get to take a two-hour nap before the game.
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t respond to my text.”
With the passing streetlights and headlights of oncoming cars illuminating the interior of the cab, I don’t miss the way her eyelids press together tightly. “What text?”
“You really think I believe you didn’t read it? That you just happened to get rid of that guy when I sent it?” I have no idea if she “got rid of that guy” or if he left on his own. But I’m determined to find out.
She’s silent for nearly a full minute, long enough that we’re already turning onto the street where our hotel is, when she finally says, “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
If she hadn’t faltered, I might have believed her. Instead, I reach over, cupping the far side of her face in my hand and turning her head so she’ll look at me. “What’s really going on, Morgan?”
