Page 25

CHAPTER 24

I THOUGHT WE DID

DAVID

“The mailbox is full and cannot accept any new messages at this time. Goodbye.”

“Goddamnit,” David muttered, staring down at his phone.

He pulled up his messages, frowning at the twelve unanswered texts he’d sent in the three and a half hours since they’d gotten home from their conference loss.

David turned back to his living room, barely registering the takeout containers from their Italian place that were laid out on his coffee table or the flickering candles he’d bought months ago with this exact moment in mind. He tapped his phone against his leg, trying to calm his breathing. It grew more and more shallow with every passing second that his phone didn’t ring. Just fucking ring, he silently implored, willing the device to do something. Anything.

Anything to know that Sage was safe.

He tried her number again. “Come on, Lefty,” he pleaded, his hand trembling from gripping the phone so tightly.

Nothing.

David jumped into action, like maybe if he moved quickly enough he could outrun the panic that clawed its way up his throat. He blew out the candles, and giving Daisy a quick pat on the head, headed out the door.

Less than five minutes later he stood outside of Sage’s apartment. He’d taken the long way, walking through the manicured grass behind her building so that he could look up at her balcony and see if her lights were on. Dread tightened his stomach when they weren't.

But still he pounded on her door.

“Sage,” he called, certain that he was loud enough for her to hear him through the door. “Sage!”

The silence that met him was deafening, drowned out by the roaring in his ears that had reached a volume that had his head pounding.

Now he was afraid. He knocked one more time, even though he knew there would be no answer. As he forced himself to breathe, he pulled out his phone.

“Chuck,” he said as soon as his friend answered. “I…it’s Sage. I can’t find her and —”

“I’m on my way.”

David hung up, dragging himself step by step away from the place where he knew Sage would be safe. Except she wasn’t there and she wasn’t responding, which meant that she could be anywhere, and there was no guarantee of her safety.

Fuck .

Chuck found him sitting woodenly on his couch, phone in one hand and a crushed water bottle in the other.

“Breathe, David,” Chuck said, dropping to his knees in front of him and gripping his shoulder with a firmness that David needed to remind himself that he was alive. David forced his lunges to empty, his exhale harsh. Chuck squeezed him tighter. “I’m sure that she’s fine.”

David’s head was shaking before Chuck finished speaking. “You can’t know that. Don’t say shit like that when I have no idea where she is, and she isn’t answering my calls or my texts.”

“It’s late afternoon,” Chuck said, his voice infuriatingly calm, just like it’d always been when David lost control. “Could she be with friends right now?”

The panic in his throat flared. “Friends,” he started, thinking about Sage, about the evenings they spent together, trying to remember if she mentioned hanging out with other people, if there was —

“Maggie.” David shot to his feet. “We’ve got to find Maggie.”

Chuck frowned. “Maggie?”

David was already shoving his feet into his shoes and grabbing his keys. “The bartender from The Grove. She and Sage are tight.”

“Got it.” David heard Chuck heave out a heavy sigh. “Oh, David,” he said, his voice quiet.

David glanced back at Chuck, who stood looking down at the take-out and the candles and the flowers he’d picked out because the blue matched the suit she’d worn to so many games. The one she looked breathtakingly beautiful in.

Swallowing against the knot in his throat, David rubbed the back of his neck.

“Did you guys have plans?”

David looked up at Chuck, letting out a strained laugh. “I thought we did,” he admitted, before turning to the door. “Let’s go find Maggie.”

* * *

David wove his way through the packed crowd at The Grove, his heart sinking when he realized that none of the three bartenders were Maggie.

“She’s not here,” David said, trying to keep his voice even as he spoke to Chuck.

“Let’s ask him.” Chuck nodded toward a short, wiry man with a shaved head who was currently filling a tray full of pint glasses from one of the taps along the wall behind the bar.

David didn’t think twice about using his body to his advantage, wedging his way forward until his chest rested against the bar.

“Hey,” he called out. The bartender looked up. “We’re looking for Maggie. Any chance you could help us get in touch with her?”

The man looked briefly amused. “Hell no,” he said with a laugh.

“Come on.” The shred of control David had over himself in that moment wavered. He forced himself to exhale slowly through his nose. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

“You think you two are the first assholes who’ve come around here trying to score her number?”

“Listen, man,” David growled, leaning his upper body over the edge of the bar and using every bit of his size to tower over the piece of shit who was standing between him and the reassurance that Sage was okay. A reassurance that was becoming more and more urgent with every passing minute. “Maggie is friends with my girlfriend who’s missing, and I’m trying to find her.”

The man was unimpressed, looking David up and down like he was nothing more than a fly who’d had the audacity to land on his bar. “Get out of here,” he said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

David’s control snapped. “If something happened to her,” he started, his hands already clenching into fists.

A warm hand closed around his arm, pulling him back. “Dude,” Chuck said, his voice low. “Calm the fuck down.”

Chuck didn’t loosen his grip, tugging David along with him as he wound his way back through the picnic tables. David was barely there, the lights passing overhead in a yellow blur and the sounds of conversation and laughter blending into a grating buzz that threatened to break him.

Maybe he was already broken.

Chuck gave him a final push that sent him through the entrance and out onto the brightly-lit sidewalk. Another tug on his arm had him following Chuck down the block, one step following another until they turned onto a side street. Steady pressure on his shoulder left David no choice but to drop down to the curb.

David’s chest was ripping in two, fear that he hadn’t tasted in twelve years crushing his lungs until breathing felt impossible. His head dropped down between his knees and his hands knit together behind his neck, his body collapsing inward like that would somehow make it all feel like less.

He’d been there before.

The floor under his feet had been linoleum rather than cracked cement, and the antiseptic in the air had burned his nose when he’d remembered to breathe. Now the warmth of the air was only barely tainted by exhaust from the traffic a few blocks over. The rhythmic beeping of machines was replaced by the hum of air-conditioning units and the occasional honking of a horn.

Then, he’d known without a doubt that Johnny was in one of those rooms fighting for his life. He’d sat there at the edge of the waiting room, crumpled under the crippling weight of his irresponsibility.

Now, as he sat on the curb, a voice that was mostly buried under the roar of the panic that filled him reminded him that he didn’t know if Sage was hurt. She could be fine; that there was no reason to assume the worst.

But what if? What if something had happened and he hadn’t been there for her, hadn’t done the one thing he’d promised himself to always do for the people he loved?

“She’s going to be okay,” Chuck’s voice filtered through the darkness. “I know you’re scared, man. If it were me, I’d be terrified. But there’s nothing we can do right now other than trust that Sage has a good reason for not getting back to you. If nothing else, trust in her.” David’s eyes fell shut as he felt Chuck’s hand on his back. “Let’s go get Daisy and you can stay with me tonight. We’ll wait for her together. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

An hour later David lay sprawled out as much as he could on Chuck’s couch, an afghan thrown over his legs and Daisy snoring softly where she lay curled up between his knees. The kind of exhaustion that came from hours and hours trapped in a state of panic weighed on him, but the idea of sleep felt laughable.

Not when Sage could be out there. Not when she might need him.

* * *

David woke up in the morning with a stiff neck, a throbbing lower back, and Daisy enthusiastically licking his cheek. He must have nodded off at some point. He lifted Daisy from his chest gently, always careful with her little body. She squirmed as he pushed himself up to sitting, placing her on the floor beside his bare feet.

Any hope that he’d wake up to a different world was immediately shot as he looked down at his phone. No new messages.

The dread was right there, souring his mouth as he stood up. He was going to find her. He’d start at the places she frequented — the gym, the coffee shop, the grocery store — and then? Then he was going to start calling hospitals.

He found Chuck in the kitchen, already pouring coffee into a to-go mug.

“So what’s the plan?”

David looked at the serious expression on his friend’s face. There was no mocking. No reminders that his fear was irrational. There was nothing but care and concern.

Emotion clogged his throat. “I’m going to look on campus,” David finally managed to choke out. “The gym, the library.”

Chuck nodded. “Give me your keys and I’ll go back to your apartment with Daisy. Text me her apartment number and I’ll make sure to knock.”

“Thanks,” David said, even though that single word barely scratched the surface of the gratitude he felt for his friend. “You’re the best.”

Chuck gave him a small smile. “I’ve got you, man.”

* * *

When David saw the beat up silver sedan in the Humphrey Center parking lot, he was overwhelmed with the need to both punch a wall and burst into tears. Probably at the same time.

He ran toward the practice gym. With every step, hurt and fear twisted into anger, and by the time David flung open the double doors, he was livid . Fucking livid and raw around the edges, like his whole body was a fresh bruise that had spent the past day being repeatedly poked and prodded.

But no matter how hot his rage burned, seeing Sage Fogerty whole and healthy threatened to bring him to his knees. Everything from the flush of her bare arms to the swing of her ponytail was a reminder that she was beautiful and she was okay.

Thank God, Lefty. Thank fucking God she was okay.

Now that he’d confirmed that her heart was still beating and all of her limbs were intact, David marched over to where she was shooting. He went straight to the basket, perfectly timing his arrival so that he could snatch the ball out of the net.

He knew she was going to make it.

For a brief second he considered the ball in his hands. It felt light — a women’s ball, he realized — and the leather was worn and soft against his fingertips.

Using all of his strength, David cocked back his arm and threw the ball as far as he could across the gym. He watched as it bounced once, twice, three times, before rolling and coming to a stop in the distant corner.

Well. That felt pretty damn good.

Letting out a heavy breath, he turned back to Sage, who stood at the top of the key with her hands braced on her hips and her mouth gaping as she stared at him.

“When are you going to get it through your stubborn, beautiful head that you can’t just disappear on me?” His voice came out in a low growl, raw and unrestrained.

Sage’s dark brows knit together, and he could see a response on the tip of her tongue.

“You can’t do that,” he went on, his head shaking as he tried to catch his breath. “I didn’t know where you were, and when you didn’t respond…” His hand tore through his hair, the sharp pain as he caught on a knot bringing a flare of focus with it. “I thought you were dead , Sage. I called and called and got nothing.”

He could see her expression shift, defiance melting into pained regret. “I just needed to be alone for a bit,” Sage said softly.

David let out a laugh that sounded more like a canine whine in his ears. “You…I…Sage?”

Breathing wasn’t supposed to be this hard, was it?

“David.”

Sage’s face hovered in front of him. She looked panicked, her green eyes — so goddamn green — darted back and forth. He thought he felt her hands on his arms, and he wondered why someone who’s cheeks were so pink and full of life had hands as cold as ice.

“David,” she pleaded. “Fuck, David. Please, what do you need?”

Someone was wheezing, and David wanted to tell them to shut the hell up with the racket, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air. Firm hands gripped his shoulders and he crumpled, legs folding under him regardless of his furious command for them to work, stay up, don’t let her see you like this .

But then his ass hit the floor and the air was too cold against his cheeks, and he reached for her. Hands stretched out and grasping, because even through the fog he knew that there was someone there who could make it better.

The skin of her neck was still sticky with sweat when he buried his face there, arms wrapping her up and holding her tightly against him. He felt her weight, heavy on his lap, holding him in place, and her body stayed strong, steady, even when he curled in on her.

“I’ve got you,” Sage said softly, her finger-tips tracing up and down his back. “I’m here, and I’ve got you.”

At some point he remembered how to breathe. He identified the natural light streaming in from the high windows and the expanse of hardwood floor beneath him. He tried to match his breaths to the steady rise and fall of the chest that was pressed against his, but quickly gave up. The woman breathed like oxygen was optional — slow, unhurried, and patient.

When he inhaled, his lungs filled to their full capacity. That was good . The exhale that followed was just as complete.

David drew back. “I’m sorry,” he said, clearing his throat against the rasp in his voice. “This isn’t…I don’t do this.”

Sage sat back on her heels, still straddling his lap. “Talk to me, David.” The look in her eyes was so concerned, so careful, and he hated that. Hated that she looked at him like he was broken.

And while a part of him wanted to offer some sort of reassurance that he was fine, a louder voice demanded honesty. If he was really going to try to do this with Sage Fogerty, he needed her to understand this — to understand him .

“When I was a senior I was named captain of the team,” he started, looking around at the gym that hadn’t changed beyond repainted lines and fresh nets. “I was so goddamn proud. I’m sure I was annoying as shit. Just ask Chuck.”

Sage’s lips twitched into a tentative smile. “I can only imagine.”

Some of the ache in his chest eased. “I tried to be good at it. Checking in with all the guys, coordinating rides, finding a tutor if someone was struggling. It was just my thing.” David tightened his jaw. “Anyway. One night we were all going out to a house party after a big win. We didn’t have to practice the next day, so we decided to cut loose. I’d had a big game, so I drank more than I normally did. At some point I lost my phone, and spent the night dancing before going home with a girl. I didn’t track down my phone until noon the next day. One of the freshmen, Johnny, had called me. He’d called and called and messaged. I guess he was drunk and trying to get a ride back to campus.” He closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “When he couldn’t find me, he decided to drive himself. He drove his car head-on into another vehicle, killing the older couple in the other vehicle on impact.”

Sage looked at him, horrified. “David, I’m so sorry.”

“It took a while to track him down. We looked everywhere. Finally his mom called our coach after being contacted by the hospital. He didn’t make it through the night.”

“Oh my god,” Sage breathed, the heartbreak on her face a shadow of the pain he’d felt in the weeks after Johnny’s death.

David leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. “So I never drink much, just in case. And I’m…I’m weird about knowing where people are.” He shook his head. “Ask my friends. They all text me when they get home after we’ve all been out together. I know it’s crazy. Ex-girlfriends called me controlling and paranoid. Maybe they were right.” He looked Sage directly in the eye. “But it’s a part of me that I don’t know how to turn off.”

Sage blinked, watching him like she was seeing him for the first time. Reaching out one of her slender hands, she traced the large white letters on his shirt. Her shirt, he corrected himself.

“I didn’t know,” Sage said softly. “I turned my phone off and then was with Maggie, and I…I wouldn’t have left you in the dark if I’d known, David. I hope you know that.”

He shifted his weight, freeing one of his hands so he could grab hers, threading their fingers together. “I know, Lefty,” he sighed. “Are you alright?”

Her mouth curved into a small smile. “Yeah. I was thrown off by some things my mom said after the game and I just needed a little bit of time to get my head straightened out.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

David looked down at their intertwined hands. “How are you feeling about…this?”

Her dark brows arched. “About holding hands in the middle of the gym floor?”

Always with the goddamn jokes, he thought, even as his lips twitched up into a smile. “About being with me.”

“I’m not always going to answer, David.”

It took him a moment to catch up with the abrupt turn of the conversation. “Oh. Right.” A little bit of that nervousness flared up in his throat.

“Hey.” Her fingers gripped at his chin, commanding him to look her directly in the eye. As if he’d ever look away from her. “I want this with you. I don’t know about you, but the person I am when we’re watching game tape in your apartment or making breakfast at mine is more me than I’ve felt in a long time. And I want more with you. All of it, maybe.” A flush of pink spread across her cheeks. “But I’m an independent person. Sometimes I need to be alone.”

David swallowed. He would work on letting go. On trusting. He’d do all of that and so much more for her. “Okay, Lefty.” He pressed his mouth to the soft palm of her hand. He kissed her skin, slowly, indulgently, like he had nothing to do but be exactly where he was.

“Can we go get some food?” Sage asked as her fingers curled into the short hair of his beard, scratching over his cheek and jaw.

“Yeah.” Neither of them moved. “You’ve got to get up first, though.”

Sage made a quiet growl of protest. “But you’re very comfy.”

“Comfy and hungry, Sage. Get up.” He slapped a hand against her ass.

“David Hughes,” Sage said, rearing back with an expression of mock horror. “Did you just spank a woman in your place of work?”

David rolled his eyes. “Why are you like this?”

“Because you get all flustered and seeing you sputtering makes me happy.” Sage climbed off of his lap, pushing herself up to standing before extending a hand down to help him up.

Somehow he managed not to groan as he stood up. “That’s not very nice,” he muttered, brushing off the back of his sweats. “Come on,” he said, starting to walk toward the door. “I want to feed my girlfriend.”

“Wait!” Sage called out. When he turned, there was a delighted smirk on her face. “Some asshole threw my ball all the way over there.”

She pointed to where her ball sat in the far corner of the gym.

David let out a resigned sigh, realizing that this was life with Sage Fogerty. A life where the only thing that could possibly interfere with eating was basketball, the thing that brought them together in the first place.

He shifted his weight. “Race you,” he taunted, breaking out into a sprint, blowing right past Sage just in time to hear her shouted “Fuck!”

And then he heard the squeak of footsteps behind him, and he started to laugh. Even as his lungs burned and his muscles protested, still stiff from a night spent on Chuck’s couch.

He didn’t even care when Sage passed him, snatching the ball up and immediately launching into a series of taunts that all revolved around him being old and slow.

He didn’t care because Sage was smiling so wide that her mouth was open, and each of her exhales came out as a laugh.

He’d done that. And there was nothing in the world that David Hughes loved more than seeing the people he cared about safe and happy.