“Shelby! Are you tattling on me?”
“Damn right I am,” she muffle yells as she pops out of the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth.
“I’m so glad you moved here,” I grumble sarcastically as I type again to Maddox.
I’m fine. Yes, I’ve had some discomfort. But you’re not getting on a plane.
You’re not lying to me?
I’d never.
I should tell you, I have access to a plane.
How the hell did you get access to a plane? Like the team plane?
No. A private one.
Please tell me you didn’t buy a plane.
I didn’t buy a plane. I was talking to Linc today, and his future brother-in-law has a plane.
That’s handy.
Right? He told him to keep it ready.
Let’s hope you don’t need to make that call.
I know. I have to go to our position meeting. You sure you’re good?
I’m great. Now go be a football player.
Text me before you fall asleep.
Yes sir.
I kind of like you calling me sir.
Head out of the gutter Gallagher.
Love you.
Love you more.
“What the fuck is that!”
“What is what?” I ask Shelby, because I don’t know what she’s talking about. The only position I can get comfortable in is laying on my left side, which means I can’t see half the room. For all I know, Big Bird is sitting in the corner wearing a sombrero.
“On the television.”
I lift up slightly and start laughing when I see my brother on the television, explaining to a sports commentator how he plans on breaking the world record for lowest score on an eighteen-hole golf course. The world record is 55, and Beau is insistent he’s going to beat it this season.
“Hey, at least with him trying to do this, he won’t be at home much,” I say, turning slightly to hopefully put off a little pressure. “How has life been living next door to my big brother?”
“Horrible,” she says as she sits on the bed next to me. I told her to sleep in the guest room, but turns out, my best friend is more of a helicopter than my boyfriend.
“What has he done?”
“Nothing.”
