Page 115 of Ruled Out

When silence falls between us, the only thing that breaks it up is the sound of his blinker and the plane passing over my head.

“I’m okay. But actually, I called to ask for a favor.”

I hand the taxi driver my overnight bag, and he puts it in the trunk. I say a quiet prayer that my dad won’t go off on me for what I’m about to ask.

“Go on,” he replies cautiously. “I’m driving, but on Bluetooth. It sounds like you’re at an airport.”

“I’m in Dallas.”

Dad huffs out a long breath. “Please tell me you aren’t going to say it went wrong between you two.”

“Where to, ma’am?” the taxi driver asks.

I lift a finger, asking him to give me a second.

“Nothing has happened. Well, it kind of has, but it has nothing to do with me and Jessie.” I pull the car door open and climb into the back, and the driver takes his seat. “When Jessie was playing for you, did you have his home address?”

“Like the apartment we rented out for him? Probably, yes … but why, Mia?”

“No, not when he was playing for the Destroyers. His home address on South Boulevard. From when he was a boy.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and blow out a frustrated breath. “With all due respect, Dad, your decisions lately haven’t exactly been good. His mom had an accident, and I need to support my boyfriend. I don’t have a lot of time.” I glance up at the driver, who’s eyeing me in his rearview mirror. “Do you have the address, or should I think of another option?”

Nothing.

“Dad, please.”

“I’m sorry, Mia. But I can’t give that to you. This isn’t me being difficult. If you’re calling me for it, then there’s a reason you aren’t getting it from Jessie, and it must be a good one. Turn around and get back on the plane, Mia.”

As I stare out of the passenger window, my heart sinks.

He’s never going to treat me like the woman I know I am.

I miss you, Mom.

“Okay, fine. I’ll find another way,” I bite out.

Pulling my phone away, I hit End just as I hear my dad call my name.

“Ma’am—”

I hold up a hand and stare down into my lap. “Just give me a second, and I’ll get out. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“Ma’am—”

“Just a second,” I repeat, picking my phone back up and scrolling through my contacts, aimlessly searching for someone who might be able to help.

“Is it Jessie Callaghan’s address you need? The one on South Boulevard–Park Row?”

Picking my head up, I stare at the dark-haired taxi driver. “H-how do you know that?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll probably get fired if this gets out,” he mumbles to himself.

“Please, tell me,” I blurt out. “He’s my boyfriend and his mom’s hurt. I just need to get to him, but he thinks it’s a bad idea.” Opening the gallery on my phone, I flick to the picture we took in the locker room; it feels like a million years ago, even though it’s only been a matter of hours. “Look, that’s me with him. I’m still wearing the same outfit because it was taken today. I just need to get to him.”

The driver drops his head between his shoulders. “If you’re some kind of stalker or a woman scorned and looking for revenge, then just know that I have a family and I’ll lose my job.”