Page 19

His eyes open wide. “Fuck, are you still pretending to be friends? That’s just wrong. So, what’s happening with Hails?”

I scowl. “She was supposed to send me her flight info, but I haven’t heard from her since she left Greece—if she did.”

Jason whistles. “Greece, huh? Fancy.”

I shake my head, typing out a new message.

Leif: Hey, globetrotter. You alive?

Three hopeful dots appear, but almost immediately, they disappear.

I stare.

Jason watches. “Oof. Brutal. Maybe she’s finally thinking that if you won’t man up, she’ll just move on with her life.”

I exhale slowly.

“It’s fine,” I mutter, mostly to myself. “She does this sometimes.”

Jason hums. “You ever gonna tell her?”

I look up. “Tell her what?”

He gives me a look. “Oh, I don’t know. That you’re obviously in love with her?”

I glare at him, he smirks in return, then claps me on the back. “Good talk, buddy.”

And I hate him.

I hate that he’s not wrong.

I stare at my phone, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

And then, finally, I type:

Leif: Wherever you are, just . . . text me, okay? I’m losing my fucking mind.

I hit send.

And wait, but nothing comes from her side.

ChapterEight

Hailey

Defensive Zone Coverage: Keeping It Together

I was hoping for something different today. Something casual, easy, lighthearted—maybe even enjoyable.

Not this.

Not me, sitting in a sterile room, perched on crinkly paper, waiting for confirmation of something I really, really don’t want.

I swing my legs a little. Not because I’m impatient. No, that would be normal. I do it because the alternative is sitting completely still, letting my thoughts spiral into one of those slow-motion disaster montages where everything seems fine—until it isn’t and the end of the world begins.

I sigh loudly.

I have a great imagination. Some might even say too great. If there is a worst-case scenario, my brain will find it, highlight it, underline it twice, and make me feel it before it even happens—if it ever happens.