Page 51 of Falling Stars (Wild at Heart #2)

MAVERICK

In a daze, I stare at the skyscrapers blurring by as I Uber back to my apartment.

Leaving without saying goodbye was an asshole move.

I watched Baylee sleep for a few minutes before I left to catch my flight. I wanted to wake her up and shake some sense into her. I was so pissed last night and this morning that she gave up on our relationship so easily.

Now, I just feel like a dick.

If I know Baylee, she’s packing her shit to move out of my condo. To move into Beau’s camper or Sean’s extra-handy spare bedroom, which he made a point to tell her about the other day.

Getting on the airplane this morning was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Even if she hadn’t just dumped my ass, leaving Baylee and Leo felt like the wrong thing to do.

I don’t understand it. How can chasing after my dream be wrong?

Could I have thrown more money at finding someone to take over the salon so she could come with me? Yes. But even if Leo needing to be near Sean wasn’t an issue, as I look around this crowded city, I know she’d hate it here. Hell, I hate it here .

I love the idea of New York. Its sophistication that I’ll never have. Its sleek buildings that boast of businesses I’ll never comprehend. An entire block dedicated to musicals and plays I’ll probably never watch.

But I miss my quiet hometown. I miss the dust on my boots when I go to the ranch. The way a thousand stars blink back at you in the night sky. And the beautiful woman who appreciates those same things.

My Uber screeches to a halt in the middle of an intersection, jerking my neck so hard, my shoulder spasms. Son of a bitch. That shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, not after all the rehab I just did.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” my driver shouts at a pedestrian who slams her fist on our hood.

By the time I get to my apartment, my head is throbbing.

As I walk down my hallway, I realize someone’s throwing a party on my floor.

When I reach my door, I close my eyes and pray for patience. Because my roommates are the ones throwing the bash.

I reach for my keys, but the door swings open, and my roommate Bootsy shouts my name. Everyone behind him yells like I’m a celebrity.

I’m supposed to love this. I thought I would. But all I want right now is some peace and quiet, a moment alone so I can figure out my future.

Unfortunately, the apartment is teeming with people. Rap blares from the stereo. When I realize what I’m seeing, I groan. Not today.

Several of my teammates are sprawled in our furniture, getting lap dances.

“Are those strippers?” I ask.

Bootsy smirks. “Brought them home to welcome you back, man! ”

“You shouldn’t have. Really.” Because Baylee would blow a gasket if she saw this.

There are too many bare tits in here. And too much fucking glitter.

Dragging my suitcase with one hand, I wave with the other as I head to the kitchen to grab some water. Then I beeline it to my bedroom and flip on the lock.

After I kick off my shoes, I crawl into my bed and throw my arm over my face.

Maybe Bay’s right. Maybe we’d never survive if we did long distance.

Not that I’d entertain a stripper if she and I were dating.

We’re not together anymore, and the thought of touching another woman still turns my stomach.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out, hoping it’s Bay.

It’s not. If I know my girl, her pride will never let her call me right now.

My agent Vance starts talking before I even say hello.

“Are you ready for tomorrow? After you see your neurosurgeon, you need to hightail it to the stadium for your physical. Be sure to bring the paperwork from neuro that says you have the go-ahead to play. The team physician will need that to keep you on the injured reserve list.”

“Hi, Vance. It’s always nice to hear from you. How have you been?”

“Cut the crap. Your career is on the line here. So I need you to do exactly what I tell you to stay in the game.”

“What you mean is your cut of my salary will be shredded if I can’t play.” In college, I wanted a shark agent to get me the best deal possible. What I didn’t realize at the time is that I’m the bait.

He laughs. “Of course you’re going to play. At the very least, you can recover on the IRL until you’re better. Everyone gets paid that way.”

“Does it matter that I can’t handle plane rides?

That the moment the plane landed today and I stood up, I was so dizzy, I had to wait until everyone deboarded before I could stand up?

” Sitting for so long in those cramped seats probably pinched a nerve, but riding planes is a prerequisite for playing pro ball because our games are all over the country.

“Look, kid, it happens. So you’ve had a few setbacks. What matters now is what you do to regroup. My advice is to work like hell to get better. We’ll get you some cortisol shots, and you’ll be as good as gold.”

Is that what I want? To need steroids to get through my life?

When we get off the phone, I replay that convo in my head. I think about those ESPN announcers ranking on my rookie season. I think about all the expectations I had for playing in the NFL that never came to fruition.

But mostly, I think about Baylee and Leo.

I debate calling her. I need to talk to someone. I’ve always talked to Rhett or Baylee to help me make the big decisions in my life.

My brothers are flooding our family chat, but it all feels like noise.

The next morning, bleary-eyed and frustrated, I stare at my reflection in the mirror and realize what Baylee was getting at.

No one can help me make this call. It has to be mine.

Vance has a car service pick me up. Once I’m seated in the back, the driver turns to me. “Vance didn’t know which doctor you needed, Dr. Abbott or Dr. Fisher.”

One will likely tell me I should never step on a football field again, while the other one will say whatever I want him to. I made appointments with both because I wasn’t sure what I was going to do .

I could’ve died that day on the field. Instead, I’m here. I have a second chance to go after what I want.

A car honks behind us, and my driver bristles. “Come on, man. I don’t got all day.”

I pull up an address on my phone and show it to him.

With a nod, he pulls away from the curb.

I’m not sure what the future holds, but there’s one thing I need.

And it’s time to get it.