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“When do you leave?” Her voice is soft.
“Tonight. Five p.m. flight.”
“That’s three hours from now. I can’t even drive you tothe airport because I’m working and I’m running the book club.”
“That’s okay. I’ll park at the airport, no big deal.”
“I won’t get to kiss you goodbye and good luck.” She sounds so sad. The enthusiasm about the interview drains from my body and all I want to do is hold Sloane, kiss her and make it better.
But I definitely cannot do that right now. Like Troy said, I cannot fuck this up. This is my last chance to make it back.
“It’s fine, Trouble. I’ll be back before you know it. Good luck at book club.”
“Thanks,” she whispers, forlorn.
“Listen, I have to pack. I’ll call you when I land.”
“Okay. Cam?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you. Good luck. You’ll be great, I know it.”
“I love you, too. Bye, baby.”
I disconnect, a sharp pang in my chest terrifyingly close to my heart. But I shove that aside and hustle up the stairs two at a time to pack.
Thirty minutes later, I’m running through my pre-game checklist in my head:
Mouthguard: check
Cleats: check
Toothbrush: check
Charger: check
All my other shit: check
