Page 75 of Off the Trail

She glares at me. “You haven’t talked to him?”

“He said he’d call, but he hasn’t.”

“Why don’t you call him?”

“What if he’s busy?”

“Then he won’t answer. But at least he’ll see you called.”

“Do I want him to see that I called?”

She looks like she’s torn between laughing and punching me in the arm. “B, just hit the button.”

I’m screwing up the courage of a kid calling his first crush when the phone rattles in my hand. Shawn’s name flashes on the screen, and I almost drop the phone but manage to answer instead.

“Hey! Hi!” I say, cringing at the artificial brightness in my voice. Out of the corner of my eye, Brooke shakes her head in silent judgment of my ineptitude.

“Blaze, hey.” Shawn’s warm voice fills my ears and relieves the tender ache in my chest. “I caught you.”

“I was about to call you.” It’s the truth, but I’m not sure it was the right thing to say when Brooke hides her mouth behind her palm. I stick my tongue out at her and turn away. She noisily retreats to her room, presumably to give her disaster of a brother privacy.

“You were? I wasn’t sure if you’d be working or what.”

“Yeah, busy day,” I say. “What’s up?” I immediately want to rip my tongue out. “I mean, exciting about the win. Congrats.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he says. “The guys are pretty pumped.”

“I imagine that’s an understatement.”

“Yeah, but it’s not over yet.”

“When’s the first championship game?”

“Friday in San Francisco.”

“Not until Friday, okay.” I’m just filling the air with words.

“Yeah. So, baseball players are all about superstition. They think that because I showed up to cheer them on, I’m their good luck charm now. And, well, they want me at that game, too.”

This is it. He’s never coming back. I can’t believe I let myself think he would for even a second. I swallow against the hot spike of loss that suddenly burns my throat. “Of course they do. You’re awesome. When are you flying out there?”

“I’m not going,” he says, sounding surprised at my question. “I have work on Monday.”

“Work? Oh, you mean at the house.” Why are we even pretending that matters? Shawn doesn’t owe me or Luis anything.

“And the bonfire thing is Friday.”

I forgot about the bonfire. I’d looked forward to spending the night with him, being one of the besotted couples who other people find annoying. “No big deal,” I hear myself say. “It’s not the same as the World Series or anything.”

“Yeah, but⁠—”

“Listen, if it’s important that you go, you should go.”

“But—”

“Look, the lake will still be here after the Laurels win the whole thing.” I don’t expect him to come back, but the part of me that’s programmed to make other people feel better can’t be turned off, no matter how bad I’m hurting.

“Yeah?” His tone brightens, as if I’ve given him something to hope for.