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“You hooked up with the one who got away. The one who messed you up in the first place.”
Becky’s face as we lay in the treehouse that last night pops into my head. The sorrow in her eyes as we said our silent goodbye one last time.
Shaking my head, I push the memory away, locking it in the box stashed at the very back of my head.
Screw the shower.
“I’m getting out of here,” I mutter, as I pull out my bag and grab my shirt.
I’m done with this conversation.
So freaking done.
Thankfully, my teammates are smart enough not to say anything else as I quickly put on my clothes, before I march out of the locker room.
My feet pound against the ground as I make my way out of the building. Their words still swirling inside my mind, fighting with the image of Rebecca in my head.
The one who got away.
The ironic thing was they were right.
She got away.
And I let her.
Twice.
“Fernandez, wait!” A hand grips my shoulder, tugging me back.
“I’m not in the mood, Walker. Get the fuck out of my way.”
“Fat chance of that happening.” Blake’s dark eyes take me in slowly. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
He watches me for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re not fine.”
“Walker…”
“Get your head out of your ass, Rookie.” He slaps me over the head.
I rub at my nape. “Hey, what was that for?”
“Because you’re acting like a spoiled brat. C’mon, now. Get in your car, and let’s go.”
“I’m really not in the mood to go to a bar, Walker.”
What I want is to go back home, shower, and crash face first. All so I could repeat this all over again tomorrow, but unfortunately, Blake is having none of it.
“Good, ‘cause we’re not going to a bar.” He pushes me toward my car. “Let’s go, Rookie.”
“You really need to ditch that nickname.”
Walker just raises his brow. “Should I go with Monk instead?”
“Y’all really have a death wish.”
Blake slaps me over the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I think they’ll come up with something new.”
