“Hey. Some game today. What the hell happened?”
I really wish I knew. I’m so sick of my life.
“Yeah. It was something. Not sure I can tell you what happened other than there was a lot of confusion.”
There’s a long pause. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I can’t handle any more stress or anxiety at the moment. My body is strung so tight, one more unit of pressure, and I’ll snap.
“Cole, are you ok?”
Am I?
I stop at another light. Ryder’s same soft words hit me in the chest, constricting my lungs. I recall the comforting weight of her hand in mine. I don’t know what to make of anything that’s happening right now, but I want that back—the safety of her warm hand in mine. That feeling of not being completely alone. But I don’t want just anyone. I want her. And right now, she’s facing something that requires a loaded gun.
I check my phone again.
Dammit. Where is she?
“Cole,” Maggie’s voice pulls me back.
“Sorry. Yeah, I’m ok. I. . . Today was a mess. I need to talk to Coach. Seems I was given the wrong playbook.”
There’s a long pause. “What? How?”
My sister knows as much about football as she does about dance. She’s brilliant, and she understands stuff like this doesn’t happen.
“I’m not sure. I’m trying to sort through it and figure out who’s responsible.” The thing is, I’m beginning to worry about what’s coming next.
“This team has been one. . . ” She doesn’t finish her statement, as if deciding I don’t need her frustration on top of everything else. “Are you still getting those emails?”
Oh, how to answer that? I go for honesty, not having the energy for lies. Well, mostly. “Yeah, but it’s all being investigated.”
Another long pause. “I saw pictures of you hugging your. . .friend. So, she was there today?”
She should be here with me right now.
“Uh. . .yeah.”
“Cole. Are you really ok? You know if this is all too—”
“Mags, I’m good.” I cannot handle a deep conversation about too much pressure or my mental state. “It’s just been a really long day.”
And if Ryder doesn’t text me in two minutes, I’m going to lose my very last shred of patience.
“You need to come home for Thanksgiving.”
My head falls back against the headrest. She means well, but there are way too many scary things happening for me to think about holidays.
“Maggie, I know you—” My phone buzzes. Ryder. “Mags, I gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I don’t even wait to hear a reply and switch over. “Hey.”
“Meet me where you dropped me off. Hurry.”
The line goes dead. I quickly make a right and head back. She sounded winded, as if she was running.
Fuck!
I kept circling the vicinity but got off track talking to Maggie.
