Page 115 of The Hotshot


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I hear a key in the door as Callie and I are cleaning up, and I pause throwing all the streamers into a garbage bag. Callie looks up from piling up Lake’s birthday gifts and over at me. I drop the garbage bag and rush into the foyer.

Hayes walks in, and his eyes plead for forgiveness before he even opens his mouth. A wave of relief hits me. Foster is behind him, his shirt covered in blood.

“I’m so sorry,” Hayes says. “It’s over?” He looks at the half-eaten cake on the counter and the pile of balloons in the family room.

“That’s the funny thing, Hayes. Birthday parties have times you’re supposed to show up.” Callie puts her hands on her hips. “I get that you think you’re special and everything, but the party doesn’t start when you decide to make it.”

“Who’s this one?” Foster points lazily at Callie.

“I’m his sister, dipshit. I assume you’re the reason for this.” She motions with both hands at them.

They both look as though they just got out of a barroom brawl. Hayes’s shirt sleeve is ripped, blood splattered on him.

“Why do I always get the blame?” Foster says, but I ignore him.

“Are you okay?” I ask Hayes.

He steps toward me, and I don’t stop him. For a minute, I just want to wrap my head around the fact that he’s here. He’s safe and nothing has happened to him.

“Yeah,” he says.

“No broken bones? No accident?”

His shoulders sink. “No, I’m fine. Shit, Leighton, I’m sorry. I lost my phone and Foster broke his nose.”

I put my hand up to stop him from talking. “Just give me a minute.” I turn and walk out to the back patio.

“Wait. I want to talk about this,” Hayes calls behind me.

I shut the door, and the tears that have been on the brink of falling are finally unable to stay at bay. I go to the corner, face the house, cover my face with my hands, and I weep. I sob for all the fears that plagued me during the hours I didn’t know where he was.

He’s fine. He’s good. He’s here. He’s alive.

“Leighton.” He places his hand on my back. “Come here. I’m so sorry.”

He wraps his arms around me, and I turn into him, needing to touch him, to let him hold me, prove to me that he’s still with me.

Hayes continues to murmur apologies, but I just want to smell him and feel him and try to get rid of this horrible feeling inside me.

After my sobs subside, he explains what happened. “The media ran late. Then Foster and Decker got into a fight on the way back to the condo, and my phone fell into a storm grate. Decker broke Foster’s nose, so I’ve been at the emergency room with him. I was going to leave the hospital staff to deal with him, but then the nurse said they had to check him for a concussion, and he was freaked out because that would mean he couldn’t pitch. I wanted to leave, but when I saw how messed up he was before he knew he was in the clear, I just couldn’t. I was trying to get here as fast as I could. I should’ve made more of an effort to call you.”

I pull away from him, and he tries to keep me in place, but I need space from him now that I know he’s alive.

“Lake is really upset. You let her down.” I walk to the edge of the patio. The grass looks way too brown, and Patrick’s garden is half dead. I’ve done a shit job of keeping up with his landscaping.

“I’ll apologize.”

I’m sure he will, and maybe she’ll accept it, or she won’t, but eventually she’ll let it go. If he messes up again, she’ll let it go again, until she’s so used to disappointment, she comes to expect it from men. Just like me.

“Hayes, the one thing I told myself when I took on the job of raising these kids is that I would protect them at all costs. I know I have issues stemming from my upbringing. I always expect people, especially men, to disappoint me. To not show up when it matters.”

“I have shown up when it matters,” he argues.

“Yes, you have. You broke down all my assumptions, and you’ve been with me through this. There’s no denying that. But today really poked at the wound in me. I was so worried that something terrible had happened because it was outside of your character to not show up without a word. Not only did my past resurface, but it brought back that awful phone call I got when Skylar—” I have to swallow past the painful lump in my throat. “I felt like I was waiting for my phone to ring with news about you.”

“Leighton.” He steps forward, but I put my hand up to stop him. If I allow him any closer, I won’t be able to do this. “The situation was out of my control.”

“I just need some time.” I squeeze my eyes shut.