After an entire Sunday afternoon training with Dad, I try again—but nada. Single checks all around.Damn. I hope she’s okay.
We’re not exactly friends, but wehavespent a lot of time together building up my boyfriend credentials. We know each other well enough for me to check in on her. Right?
I try calling, but it rings out.
I promised not to call, I remind myself. I hang up without leaving a message, and I’m debating what to try next, when there’s a knock at my door.
“You asleep?” Adam asks.
“Nope.”
“Come playMario Kartwith us!”
“Gimme two secs!”
My roomies got back all of fifteen minutes ago, and I know hanging out with them will do me good. I’ve kinda ignored them these past few weeks, and that needs to change.
Leaping out of bed, I stride across my room and head for the living room, before turning back to grab my phone.Just in case.
“What’s up, sweet cheeks? You see your dad today?” Lewis asks, holding out a controller.
“Yup. He’s doing great.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“He’s stressing the fuck outta me, though. We need to get him back to work ASAP.”
Dad is on fire, and so are my muscles. My legs are already sore from today’s drills.
“Game prep starts tomorrow, right?” Adam asks.
I sink back into the couch, nodding.
“Well, at least you’re ready for action.”
“Uh, okay, Dad!” I offer him a smile. “How was home?”
“Let’s just say it was busy. I had to keep an eye on my mom, make sure she didn’t hit the bottle.”
Adam’s dad left when he was a teenager, and his mom started drinking way too much. Nowadays, she switches back and forth between being teetotal and going hard. She’s lucky she has such a protective, caring son.
“She going back to detox next month?”
“Same as every Thanksgiving.” He sighs.
“Dude!” Lewis yells. “Look what I found in the bathroom!”
Leaning across the armrest, he tosses one of Carrie’s books into my lap. If she ever finds out that I left her precious novel by the toilet (and that Lewis just threw it at me like a dirty sock), I’m dead.
Adam laughs. “You still ‘doing research’?”
“Someone has to do it.”
IT’S DISGUSTINGLY EARLY ON AMonday morning, and I’m hanging around a deserted parking lot. I check the time again—6:40 a.m. I’m slouching against the hood of my car, two coffees balanced next to me, one eye on my book and the other on the road.
It took me four solid minutes of online searches last night to come up with this crazy plan, and as the bus swings into view, my shoulders relax. I haven’t tried calling Carrie again, and I can’t wait to see how she reacts when she sees me here waiting for her. She’ll probably wonder what the hell I’m doing—and to be honest, I hardly know it myself.
As the passengers spill out of the bus, I’m pretty sure I got the time wrong. I’m just about to turn and leave, when I spot a messy bun. She hasn’t noticed me yet, and I watch as she sighs and stretches, her shades slipping down her nose as she cracks her neck. Suddenly, she freezes.
