Page 63 of Main Event

“Yes, you can.”

Her breath changes, not from irritation, but more from recognition. She picks up on something in my voice I didn’t intend to reveal.

“You’re serious.”

“I am.”

“Did Mack tell you to do this?”

“Mack told me to go remember who I am.”

“And that includes kidnapping me?”

“Kidnapping is such a strong word.”

“It’s an accurate word.”

“I prefer surprise transportation.”

She goes quiet again. I sit in my truck in the gym parking lot while the sky darkens over the windshield and wait for her to decide whether she will let the day have this one thing.

Finally, she says, “I’ll move the eleven o’clock.”

“And the one.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Andi.”

She pauses. “Fine,” she says. “The one too.”

I close my eyes for one second, and something in my chest loosens. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Luke?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No.”

“Do I need to bring anything?”

“No.”

“That answer makes me suspicious.”

“You should be.”

This time, her laugh is small, but real. It’s exactly what I needed to hear.

Rain hits before I reach the center.

Not a sprinkle. Not a warning. A full Georgia thunderstorm, hard and sudden, pounding the windshield in thick sheets of rain so hard the wipers can barely keep up. Traffic slows to a crawl. Brake lights smear red across the wet pavement. Thunder rolls low over the city, close enough to rattle the cab of the truck.

By the time I pull into the center’s lot, the downpour has turned the world silver. Lightning cracks across the sky before striking somewhere too close for comfort.

Andi is waiting under the front awning with her bag over one shoulder and a look on her face that says she is allowing this against her better judgment and reserving the right to complain later. She runs to the truck when I pull up, and I lean over to push the passenger door open. She climbs in, damp around the edges, hair curling at her temples from the humidity and rain.