Page 43 of I Wish He Would

“Again, I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Yeah, man.” Dawson claps my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “We all know how hard it can be to ask for help. Now you don’t have to.”

That’s not what I meant. But they’re already so invested in this plan, it would seem cruel to take it away from them. I guess it can’t hurt to get their feedback before I leave on Monday.

“Once we hear how she talks to you, we’ll have a better feel for how much work you need to put in.” Dawson smiles.

“I’ll be able to tell you if she’s flirting in about two seconds.” Fletch smirks. “You’re lucky you came to the expert.”

“No, you’re the expert at being a playboy.” Hayden points at himself. “I’m the expert at flirting.”

“Fine, I’ll call her.” I’m half interested in their thoughts, but I also partly agree just to shut them up for a few minutes. I grab my phone and open my call log. “If you guys say anything or laugh at all, I’m never going to talk to any of you again.” I shoot them a look. “I mean it.”

“Mum’s the word.” Dawson mimics locking his lips and throwing away the key. It wasn’t really him I’m worried about, though. I raise an eyebrow at Hayden and Fletch.

“You won’t even notice we’re here,” Hayden says, and they both snicker.

“Quiet as a mouse,” Fletch agrees. “Like Coop.”

I roll my eyes and look to Cooper, who gives me a what can you do? shrug.

I breathe in and press the call button. I hope they don’t make me regret this later.

I finish my nightly routine and curl up under the sheets when my phone screen lights up with an incoming call from Austin.

I haven’t exactly been avoiding him since our talk last weekend. But I haven’t reached out to him either.

Usually when he’s traveling for games, we text nonstop. There are obviously lulls when he’s at practice, games, or working out. Yet, even with how busy he is, Austin always finds the time to text me back and pick up the conversation right where we left off.

This week has been different, though, and I can’t help but blame myself. I’m the one who usually texts him first, sending him a little encouragement before a game, a celebratory text when the Mustangs win, or a “You’ll get them next time, Slugger” text when they lose. I just haven’t been able to find the courage to text him after how awkward I was during our last call. He probably hasn’t thought twice about it, but it’s all I can think about.

We leave on Monday for St. Lucia. Then I’ll be with him for five days. We’ve spent an entire day together plenty of times, but never that many in a row. Never vacationed together.

Before the call can go to voicemail, I take a deep breath and slide my thumb across the screen. “Hi, Slugger.”

“Hey, Aly Kat.”

I giggle, feeling a little more at ease hearing the nickname. “How did you know I was buried under my covers?”

“We’ve been friends for three years. You really think I don’t know your nighttime routine?”

“Fair point.” It shouldn’t surprise me because I know his rhythms as naturally as I know how to breathe. I can tell what kind of mood he’s in simply by the way he walks into a room. “How’s your week been?”

“It started off great with the three wins against the Raleigh Ravens. But losing two nights in a row has team morale low. The no-hitter tonight was brutal.”

“I’m sorry.” I wish I could have been there for him. I should’ve texted him yesterday and today after their losses. “I’m sure everyone’s fired up now, though.”

“It was the kick in the butt we needed. Hopefully we can beat the Sharks tomorrow.”

“I know your schedule is crazy with away games, but have you been able to explore Charleston at all?” It’s wild to think he could’ve gone to the same spots as Rhett just a few weeks apart. But it’s Austin I wish I was there with.

It’s always him.

It’s always been him.

No matter how many dates I’ve gone on trying to convince myself otherwise, every single one has only brought me back to Austin.

“Not outside of the stadium, the gym, and my hotel room.” He’s quiet for a beat before saying, “How are things going with Rhett?”