I exhale slowly.
Logan:No
Logan:It’s what makes it…
I stop myself. Shake my head a little.
Logan:It’s not bad.
Cassie:That was not a finished sentence.
Logan:I’m choosing self-control.
Cassie:Oh god
Cassie:Now I’m scared.
Logan:You should be.
Three dots.
Cassie:Should I take it down?
My grip tightens on the phone.
Logan:Don’t you dare.
Another pause. Longer this time.
Cassie:Okay
Cassie:I won’t.
I stare at the photo one more second before locking my phone and leaning my head back against the seat.
Forget L.A.
I might purposely tank this series just to make sure I don’t get called up.
Cassie:Hey. See you Saturday.
Logan:Saturday?
Cassie:You’re playing in Davenport that day. And I’ll be at the game…with Jackson and company. We actually bought a bunch of front row seats. So we may or may not be in the front row, heckling you.
Logan:Guess I’d better bring my “A” game then.
Cassie:Don’t you always, though?
I get back late Friday night, the team plane touching down just east of Davenport after midnight.
By the time I grab my bag and get to the truck, the parking lot’s mostly empty. Quiet. The kind of quiet that only happens this late, when the world finally shuts up for a second.
I start the engine and pull out onto the road, rolling the windows down just enough to let the air in.
It’s still warm.
Summer doesn’t really cool off out here—it just…softens.
