“Fine.”
My grin falters. Something’s not right. She keeps glancing to the side.
“Yeah? Great. So what did the doc say?”
Her eyes dart away, and she licks her lips.Shit.
“Birdie? Babe, you’re freaking me out.” Finally, she looks at me, and fuck me, her eyes are shiny as if she’s about to cry. I scramble up to sit, panic consuming me. “Lark. Talk to me.”
She smiles. But it’s fake, I can tell. “I’m fine, Dan. Really. It’s nothing serious, and the doctor gave me some medicine to help settle my stomach. I’ll be on the plane with the team.”
That news should have me feeling ecstatic. But I can’t seem to push past the dread.
“That’s great. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Me neither.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds. I hate this. I don’t know what’s wrong, just that something is. I want to push her to tell me what’s going on. But as I open my mouth to do just that, she cuts me off.
“I have to go, Sadie’s coming over for dinner and to help me pack. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
I nod silently.
“I love you, Dan.” At least this time, her smile seems a touch more genuine.
“I love you, too.”
She ends the call before I can say anything else, and I’m left staring at a dark screen.
A fist pounds on my door, and I hear Jonesie’s voice shout through it.
“Monty! Let’s go, bro, Yami found a barbecue place we’re headed to for dinner.”
I’m not even hungry. But somehow, I manage to drag myself up off the bed. Grabbing a Tridents ball cap and pushing it on my head, I stuff my wallet and phone in my pocket and open the door. “Yeah, let’s go.”
I brush past him, striding down the hall to the elevator.
“Dude. Everything okay?” he asks as the door slides shut in front of us. I like Jonesie. But I sure as shit don’t know him well enough to talk to him about Lark.
“Yeah, fine. Just tired.”
That seems to be good enough for him because he nods and leaves me alone. Downstairs, we meet up with the rest of the guys, and head out for dinner. Being around everyone helps take my mind off things for the most part, and I try my best to focuson my teammates.
But later, when I’m lying in bed alone, there’s no avoiding my thoughts and the mental panic spiral I’m trying to ignore.
Somewhere around 1 am, when sleep continues to evade me, I roll over and thump my pillow with a grunt. Tomorrow is gonna suck donkey balls if I don’t get any sleep.
Giving in, I grab my phone and open up my texts with Lark.
DAN: Baby, I know something’s wrong. I just hope whatever it is, I can fix it. Because I love you. Nothing’s gonna change that.
I’m not expecting her to reply, certain she’s asleep even though I’m an hour ahead of her. But to my surprise, just as I’m about to set the phone down, I see the three dots that indicate she’s typing. I sit upright, staring at the screen, willing her reply to appear.
LARK: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. There’s nothing to fix, I promise. I love you too.
It doesn’t tell me anything about what’s upsetting her. I debate calling her and demand she tell me what’s going on. But it’s the middle of the night, and we both need to try and sleep. Dragging in a deep breath, I try to convince my brain that she means what she says, and I don’t have anything major to worry about.
DAN: There’s a giant hug and even more giant kiss waiting for you when you get here.
