How’s the search going?
I haven’t told them that I found Lola, which means I haven’t had a phone call with them in over a month, since I’m incapable of lying to them and they would undoubtedly ask. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to know I have a name and address, but ifMum knew Lola refuses to talk to me, she’d likely start making plans to come talk to the woman herself.
Typing out a few different responses, I settle on the vaguest one.
Logan:
Thunder’s getting better, yeah. No contact yet, but I have some connections.
I snort out a laugh.Connections. Skilled as she is at making ripper meals to rival my mum’s cooking back home, Savannah has been pretty useless when it comes to getting me in contact with Lola. She says she hasn’t had a proper conversation with my birth mother since we struck our deal, but she’s spenthoursat the Shafer house. Sometimes I wonder if she’s even trying; she’s been jumpy about the whole thing from the start.
I’m not sure I can ask her about it again without making things worse. Our bare-bones text conversations thus far have all been variations on the same thing, with Savannah’s responses progressively getting more annoyed:
Logan:
Talked to her yet?
Savannah:
Nope. I’ll tell you when I do.
Tonight, however, I choose a different tactic in the hopes she might respond differently.
Logan:
What would you say to adding road food to my menu going forward?
It’s late in Kansas City, and though California is two hours behind, I’m not expecting her to reply tonight, much as I want her to. It’s Saturday night, and a woman like her is bound to be out with someone. She may not be Moxie’s type, but the spitfire would appeal to any other straight hot-blooded male. It’s as much her sparky personality as it is her looks, and unlike a lot of women in Los Angeles, she doesn’t look like she’ll snap in half in a stiff breeze. She has substance. Something for a man to hold on to.
Not that any muppets out there deserve to hold on to her. In fact, I’d rather shewasn’ton a date. She’s better off on her own, with that beast of a cat who likes me more than she does.
I tap my fingers on my knee, waiting for the text to switch to ‘read’ because I have nothing else to do tonight than send out a silent prayer that she’s busy making meals and not making out with some bloke.
I should take up a hobby so I can avoid down time like this. Now that I’ve found Lola, I don’t have anything to occupy myself outside practice. Back home, my life is rugby all day, every day. Here… I rub a tight spot in my chest, trying not to think about how the only other thing to take up space in my life here is Savannah.
Which is a problem.
I might have her drop my meals off at my flat from now on, rather than going to her. Over the last few weeks, I’ve discovered that I inevitably end up spending more time at her place than I should. Bonding with Beef Wellington. Watching Savannah cook. Memorizing her smile…
Ten minutes later, a knock on my door pulls my eyes from my phone and my thoughts from the spitfire and her cat. I reluctantly slip my phone into the pocket of my shorts as I cross the hotel room, and a glance through the peephole makes me frown and open the door. “Mox?”
Moxie holds out a paper bag that smells of beef and garlic. “Thought you might be hungry.”
I grab his head and press a quick kiss to his curly hair. “Legend.” Taking the bag from him, I hold the door open wider, surprising myself by inviting him in. But the man brought me food, and Savannah isn’t texting me back anyway. Might as well socialize.
Chuckling, Moxie comes inside and looks around the room. “Is this really better than hanging out with the team, Callahan?”
“I’m better company,” I argue as I flop onto the bed and dig into the meal he brought me. It won’t be as good as Savannah’s food, but anything beats another protein shake. “Looks like you’ve figured that part out.”
“It’s more that I’m concerned about my teammate,” he says, settling into the armchair by the window.
I roll my eyes and speak through a mouthful of food. “I’m grand.”
“Wasn’t talking about you.”
That gets me to stop inhaling whatever is in this container—I’ve been eating too fast to taste it—and meet his gaze.
Moxie’s expression is hard, but as always there’s a kindness underneath the stern look. “I know you’re trying to push Bean to be better, but I need you to stop.”
