The diner is loud and chaotic. We take over half the restaurant, push tables together, and order everything on the menu. The waitress looks overwhelmed, but she's smiling, probably calculating her tip.
I order Sutton's favorite—cheese fries and a chocolate shake—thinking maybe I'll bring it to her as a peace offering for disappearing.
"Who's that for?" Crew asks, nodding at the extra order.
"Sutton."
"Aww, that's actually sweet." He makes a kissing sound, and I flip him off.
By the time we finally leave the diner, it's after two in the morning. The adrenaline is starting to fade, replaced by exhaustion and a growing unease.
I should have texted Sutton hours ago. Should have found her right after the game.
But I got caught up.
The house is dark when the Uber pulls up, except for one window.
Sutton's room.
Relief floods through me. She's awake. I can give her the now-cold cheese fries, tell her about the game, and apologize for not coming home earlier.
Maybe she'll understand.
I take the stairs two at a time and knock softly on her door.
"Sutton? You awake?"
Silence.
I knock again. "I brought you food. Cheese fries. They're probably gross now, but?—"
The door opens.
My smile dies.
Her eyes are red and swollen. Tear tracks stain her cheeks. She looks devastated.
And absolutely furious.
"Seattle," she says. Her voice is flat. Dead.
My stomach drops to my feet.
Shit.
“You know,” I say.
"Your dad's been talking about it for weeks. Everyone knows but me."
Shit. Shit. Shit.
"I can explain."
"Can you?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Because I'm dying to hear the explanation for why your father was bragging to everyone in the stands about your basically guaranteed offer to a Pacific Northwest team while I sat there like an idiot having no idea what he was talking about."
"I was going to tell you."
"When? After you signed? After you packed your bags?" Her voice breaks. "Or were you just going to ghost me?"
