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Somethingheclearly wasn’t doing any longer. He was definitely over Kinsey’s death. He’d been the only person around to help me move today, and I’d had to wait for him to kick out his overnight guest this morning before he could get his ass over here and give me a hand.
But I was glad he was over his own trauma and moving on, so I really couldn’t complain.
“So if she showed up at your apartment tonight and threw herself at you,” he persisted with his line of questioning. “You’d be all like,no, no. We shouldn’t. You’re still healing.” He paused to give me a look.“Bullshit.”
“Dude,” I countered. “If she visited me every weekend for nothing but a booty call, I’d be completely down. But she won’t, so I’m gonna be satisfied withthisuntil she does.”
“But…how?” he demanded.
I shrugged. “I have no idea. I just know that getting a ‘maybe-someday’ from her is better than a ‘nothing-ever.’ I’m taking what I can get.”
He whistled and shook his head “Man, that is lame,” he announced as he started to walk with me back toward the house. “You know what you need? You need to come out with me tonight. I’ll get you laid and?—”
“Hey! Foster!”
When a harsh voice called from near my truck in the drive, both Keene and I glanced around to see a man stalking toward us, his features filled with rage.
Recognizing Robbie Crowder, I groaned. “Fuck.”
Keene glanced at me in worry. “What? Another reporter?”
I grimaced, not wanting a reminder that I had to deal withreportersthese days too.
About the same time that Raina had moved away from Westport, Connor Resson had written an op-ed about me, suggesting that I was suffering from substance abuse. He posted a handful of social media pictures of me holding a drink at various parties and then explained how he’d seen me sweaty and disoriented at the hospital as if I were on drugs.
My friends had immediately gone on the warpath, picking apart all the pictures and pointing out in all the comments that the level in my cup never changed, meaning I never actually drank anything. My sister, Amy, had cried, worried she’d started the whole rumor. And my parents threatened Resson with libel if he didn’t take the article down, which he did. But the damage had already been done.
People talked and speculated, and now Coach had me taking a freaking random drug test once a week—at least—so he could publicly prove I was clean and sober.
I’d lost a portion of my fan base over the whole thing. It’d be hard to come back from this. But honestly, I kind of hoped my popularitydiddie down; I hated being in the public eye.
At the moment, however, there was a big buzz around me. I’d even let Oaklynn interview me on her segment so I could explain the scene at the hospital that Connor had described, telling everyone that I’d just visited someone who’d had some distressing news. And then I’d had to explain my history with panic attacks and what I’d gone through to combat them. It had not been fun.
A lot of people had been sympathetic, while a lot worried that I wouldn’t be fit to be the quarterback now that I was prone to anxiety. And some still thought I was a drug addict.
Personally, I just wanted it to end.
All of which had nothing to do with Robbie Crowder marching toward me right now, looking as if he wanted to kick my ass.
This week just kept getting better and better, I swear.
“No, he’s not a reporter,” I told Keene with some irritation. “He’s a cuckolded husband.”
“Huh?” He whipped a startled glance my way.
I winced, wishing I had time to explain, but Robbie was already upon us, pointing and snarling, “I want to talk to you.”
“Hey, man,” I started casually, trying to be cool. “What’s—Whoa!”
He swung a fist at my head.
I ducked the first shot and lifted my hands, calling peace to the situation, but then he caught me in the jaw with his second right hook, growling, “You son of a bitch.”
As I stumbled back, seeing stars, Keene jumped in, shouting, “Hey, hey! What do you think you’re doing?” He pushed Robbie away from me, giving me time to orient myself.
“You stay out of this,” Robbie warned, pointing at him. “I’m talking tohim.” He transferred his finger my way. “You fucked Em, didn’t you? You slept with mywife?”
Suddenly glad that my mother had taken all my younger siblings out for the afternoon so I could move out without upsetting any of them, I shook my head.
