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“I wanna call her,” he said, hanging his head. “I know I shouldn’t, I know I said I wouldn’t, but I want to.”
“Don’t do that, man. You have to give yourself some space.”
“I know what’s gonna happen. She’s gonna be with Hayes this whole time I’m away, and the thought of it is driving me fucking insane.”
“Then don’t think about it. Seriously. You’re going to a new city, you’re single. You’ll find plenty to keep yourself busy.”
“My therapist said I need to stop banging around so much.”
“Yeah? Your therapist also said not to bang Amara anymore, and clearly, you didn’t listen to that. You just need something to get your mind off it all, man. The only advice I can give you is to just take these next two weeks to focus on yourself. Put in the work in Worcester, and hopefully, that’ll be it and you’ll get back to Bridgeport.”
“Thanks for talking to me. I appreciate it. I should probably get back on the road.”
“Hey, can I ask you something without you getting all pissy with me?”
“Sure.”
“You sure this is just about her?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You…Ry, you talk about her, but you talk about him just as much.” He paused. “Probably more. Do you know that?”
“I don’t…no. It’s only because of her and him…no.” He laughed uncomfortably, then paused. “Luke: I’m not…no.”
“I mean, it’s OK, Ryan. I wouldn’t care, Mom wouldn’t care. You…you know that, right?”
Ryan was silent.
“You know that, right?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“And if you ever wanna talk to me, about anything, you can. I mean it. Anything. You got it? I’m always here for you. Nothing you tell me could change that.”
“I know that, too, Luke.”
“Just making sure. Anyway, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
“Probably sitting in a hotel room by myself.” He snickered. “How pathetic is that?”
“It’s not pathetic at all. You’re an athlete who has to travel for his job. Happens all the time, man. Listen, Mom and I will FaceTime you tomorrow, OK? Seriously: focus on you. Try not to think about her, try not to think about him, and just focus on doing whatever you gotta do to get your ass the fuck back to Bridgeport. I love you, Ry.”
“Love you too, Luke.”
He hung up, composed himself, and put the car in drive, trying his best to ignore the part of the conversation he’d just had with Luke: the part he wasn’t ready to face just yet.
He distracted himself with his Spotify “Fuck Everything: Part 2” playlist, alternating between screaming the lyrics and wondering what fresh hell awaited him a mere 57 more miles away.
???
“Check in for Baylor,” he told the woman at the front desk of the Hilton at which he’d booked a room for the next two weeks. He thanked God the league was picking up the tab for it; otherwise, at 325 bucks a night, he’d be staying in a tent on the sidewalk.
“You’re all set. It’s been paid for, you just need to sign here.”
“Thank you,” he said, grabbing his key card and pushing his baggage cart down the hall towards the elevator. Mentally exhausted, he checked the time on his phone.
6:47 p.m.
