Page 63 of Worth the Shot

I swallow. My insides feel like warm Play-Doh. Great. I’m twelve. “Sorry for waking you,” I say lightly, even though I’m absolutely not. “I just wanted to hear your voice. How’d practice go today?”

“It went good,” he says. “Someone told me to get out of my head and start scoring some more goals, so I’m trying.”

“She sounds smart,” I say, grinning like an idiot into a throw pillow.

“Oh, she is. She’s smart, beautiful, funny, and a little terrifying at times.”

Another soft laugh, and I swear my brain short-circuits. That sound does something feral to me. “Gotta keep you on your toes,” I fire back.

“And you do, Delaney Collins. You really do.”

My stomach flutters, like actual somersaults. “Well,” I sigh, “guess I’ll let you get back to your very important pre-game nap. Have a safe flight.”

“Hey, Laney?”

“Mhm?”

“How ‘bout that date next weekend?”

A smile the size of Texas spreads across my face, but I hesitate before I answer. Not because I don’t want to, but because I immediately remember my schedule. I work the next few days and my last shift ends at seven on Saturday, and they’re off that night. I’ll need caffeine intravenously, but I don’t care.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound casual and definitely failing. “I’ll allow it.”

“I’m honored,” he teases. “I won’t let you down.”

I bite back the stupid grin stretching across my face.

“See you then, Bren.”

“Can’t wait,” he says, soft and certain.

I end the call and let my head fall back against the couch cushion, a smile lingering on my lips.

And I don't even try to fight it this time.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Delaney

If there’s one thing I can always count on, it’s being absolutely exhausted after a twelve hour shift. However, because the universe is sick and twisted, that doesn’t mean sleep always comes easy for me. I’m used to sleeping alone, but lately, alone feels lonelier than usual.

I roll over and blindly slap my hand around my nightstand, searching for my phone. When I finally find it, I yank it off the charger a little aggressively, because the frustration is real, and check the clock. One o’clock in the morning. Lovely. If I fall asleep instantaneously, I’ll get a whole four and a half hours of sleep and that? That is not enough. Especially since this week has been something very close to hell, and tomorrow is my date with Brennan.

Date.

Saying that, admitting it, feels scary but exciting. Like jumping off the diving board into the deep end and even though you know how to swim, you’re still nervous about hitting the bottom.

If I think about it any longer, I may never sleep again, so I do the most rational thing I can think of and start scrolling on my phone.

Regret hits me almost instantly as I open my Instagram app and see a tagged photo of Matt. I don’t know why, but my stomach bottoms out as I stare at it. It’s him, red hair slightly messy from the wind, standing on a pier somewhere in LA. He’s with a woman who has surfer blonde hair, beachy waves, and tanned skin that isn’t overdone. Just natural and pretty in all the ways you can’t even be mad about. The water behind them looks bluer than usual, the sky painted with vibrant streaks of orange and pink. His arm is slung around her as she poses beside him, and he looks happy. Unharmed.

It’s been seven months and he never tried to reach out, and neither did I. Maybe because of pride, maybe out of fear of falling back into a pattern I need to avoid like the plague, but either way it seemed like it was for the best. I tell myself that maybe, just maybe, his reasons were the same. That moving on would come a little easier if I believed that. But seeing him for the first time, happily living his life, leaves me feeling strangely untethered. Like some part of me never expected to see the next chapter of his life once ours ended.

I could click on her profile, stalk it like it’s my full time job, and pick her apart until I find something to hate about her. Hell, that’s exactly what I want to do. But I don’t. Instead, I click on Matt’s page, hit the “Unfollow” button, and close out the app.

I double check my alarm, set my phone back on the nightstand, and plug it into the charger. When I roll over and close my eyes, I let myself do something I haven’t in months.

I think about Matt.