Page 42 of Reckless Storm (San Francisco End Game #3)

Reed

I wave to the Uber driver and stumble up my driveway, still on a high after winning our first playoff game. We celebrated hard tonight, but we deserve it. With only one game left before the Super Bowl, the championship is in our sights. And I don’t want to be cocky…but fuck, we are good.

Everything fell into place today and we couldn’t be stopped. A force to be reckoned with. I couldn’t be more proud of the guys. It was a team effort all around.

The only thing that would have made it better was if Hayley hadn’t been MIA—holed up in some exotic country, leaving her mark on the world.

I smile to myself as I think of her—her long, blonde hair blowing in the breeze like she has her own personal fan, cameras flashing, everyone enamored by her talent.

I miss her.

Patting my pockets, I locate my phone and bring up her name. She’s only been gone a week but it feels like longer. She’s back after our next game. We’re almost there. But I can’t resist messaging her.

Reed: One down. One to go, Baby

I text her, smiling as I press send, only then noting the time.

Reed: Fuck, it’s 2am. Sorry

Reed: Wait, no it’s not. What time is it?

Where is she? She was in London yesterday, or was it the day before? I know she’s in another time zone right now, but other than that…

The three little dots appear and my throat bobs as excitement builds in my chest. Did I mention I miss her? In such a short span of time, she's cemented herself in my life, and now that she's gone, I’m a little out of sorts without her. And not at all ashamed to admit it.

To myself.

I’m not sure she needs to know just yet.

Hayley: It’s seven. I’m in London. But lucky for you, I’m already up to catch an early flight

I was right…London. I knew that because I’ve been keeping up with her premieres.

Not in a stalker way like that guy who better leave her the fuck alone, but in a supportive way—like a boyfriend would.

And I can report… Jaded Beginnings is killing it.

Audiences are eating it up, just like I knew they would.

Australia’s sweetheart is taking over. Or is she America’s sweetheart now?

Either way.

Reed: Paris next, right?

Hayley: Oui

I smile, getting comfortable on the couch, kicking my feet up on the armchair beside me, flexing my toes to stretch out my aching calves, though I can’t for the life of me figure out why they ache.

Hayley: Congrats on the win. I saw the end of the game when I got back last night

Reed: You watched?

Hayley: Of course. You’re my man. (Wink emoji)

Reed: Of course. (Laughing emoji)

My heart jolts but I ignore it. I’m going to chalk it up to the copious amounts of alcohol I have coursing through my body. Hayley’s my friend . That’s why she watched. That’s what friends do. They support each other, even when they’re busy.

At least that’s what they’re supposed to do.

My chest tightens for an entirely new reason now and I ignore that too. Even a simple “best of luck” message would suffice, but no… fuck . Now is not the time to process feelings…good, bad, or indifferent. Especially where Hayley and Bria are concerned.

Hayley: Also…Luke told me I had to watch. He said he’d have a pop quiz for me today. On that note, who scored the first touchdown?

A laugh bursts out of me and I straighten up, leaning forward to type. Fucking Luke. That checks out and…

Reed: Luke scored the first touchdown. Lucky you asked

Hayley: Christ, that would have been a bad one to get wrong

Hayley: I never would have lived it down

Reed: Nope. Never. What else do you need to know?

Hayley: What about the score at half time?

Another message comes through before I can respond, and my body tenses when I see that it’s Bria.

I’m ninety percent sure this is the longest we’ve gone without speaking, but I’m choosing not to think about that too.

I’m still trying to process how the fuck I feel.

I miss her. I do. But until I know how to fix us , there’s not much I can say.

Ignoring her message, I read Hayley’s follow-up text and chuckle.

Hayley: Actually wait… he’s likely to ask something obscure, like what color shirt was D’Angelo wearing?

Reed: You mean Daddy D’Angelo (wink emoji, laughing emoji, crying emoji, cool dude emoji)

God, I’m funny.

I’m still chuckling to myself when my phone rings, vibrating in my hand, making me startle and drop it. Watching it slide under the couch, I curse. Dammit.

I jump down to get it, stretching my hand as far as it will go, rummaging around until my fingertips finally strike gold.

“Hello,” I answer as I straighten up, banging my head into the coffee table. “Motherfucker,” I curse, rubbing the ache.

“I’ve done a lot of things, but never that.”

“Shit. Sorry about that. But probably lucky it was you, Hayley Baby.” I smile at her nickname and she giggles.

“I knew it! Golden Boy, are you drunk?”

“What? Nuh-uh,” I whine, shaking my head even though she can’t see me. I’m not drunk, I just drank. There’s a difference.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

“I’m fine . You were asking about a shirt?”

“Bonus points for remembering.”

“I don’t remember. The color, I mean. I should have been paying more attention.”

“So disappointing.” Hayley giggles again and the sound makes me melt.

“I’ll be better next time.”

“No need, I’ll be watching. It’s my last day before I fly home, and I’ve made no other plans.”

I smile, my chest tight with emotion. “Thanks, Hayls. I’ll blow you a kiss. It’s nice to know you care.”

“Of course I care. You’re my man.” She repeats her earlier sentiment, but hearing it out loud makes it so much sweeter.

“If only you were here so I could show you how your man would be rewarding you right now.”

“Reed!”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What’s not?”

“Teasing me like that. I want to be rewarded.”

“Jesus. H. Christ. I said that out loud? That’s not very golden boy of me.”

Hayley’s infectious laughter lights up the sound waves before a muffled announcement permeates the air and her laughter abruptly cuts off. “Shit. That’s me. I have to go.”

“Talk soon?”

“Definitely.”

“Bye, Baby.”

“Bye, Boyfriend.”

She hangs up and my head spins. Maybe I am drunk? I’m definitely tired.

Lying back, I close my eyes and dream of my bed instead of getting off my ass to walk to my bedroom. I imagine my head sinking into the soft pillows, the warm comforter tucked under my arm, Hayley curled into my side. It’s peaceful and—

What the fuck?

Nope. No feelings. Not right now. I need to sleep.

A week later, spirits are high in the locker room ahead of our conference final.

We made it this far, and I have no doubt we’re going all the way.

Up next, the Super Bowl. There’s an energy in the air that I haven’t felt before.

We’re not just confident, we’re determined, and in this moment, I’m happy to be the cocky asshole Luke is, and say… we deserve it.

When I’m changed, I shake out my shoulders and stretch my arms, bouncing on my toes.

With a few minutes left before we’re due on the field, I run through my pregame ritual, clearing my mind, taking a few deep breaths as I live in the moment.

I’m about to make my way out when one of my teammates grabs my arm.

“Is that yours?” He points to my phone on the floor and I frown. What the fuck?

“Yes, thank you.” That’s new. I’m usually so organized. Shrugging to myself, I bend to grab it and find a text from my mom, making my brows furrow.

While I wouldn’t normally check my phone this close to game time, something doesn’t feel right. She called to wish me luck earlier, and she never texts.

Bringing the screen to life, I click on her message and my stomach sinks.

Mom: Dad and I appreciate your offer for a paid vacation, but we’ve decided it’s not the right time for us. We’re going to spend the $200 voucher on a night in a city hotel and return the rest to you. We are looking forward to getting away for the weekend. Thank you

Thank you? They appreciate my offer? It wasn’t an offer . It was a goddamn Christmas present. It’s paid for. Nonrefundable. And they were over the moon about it.

At least, they were .

My stomach churns as my muscles tense. This has nothing to do with my parents. My brother figured it out and he’s making them feel guilty. Just like he always does. Something I’ve been fighting my entire life.

As my teammates exit the locker room, a few of them slap me on the back, completely unaware of my building anger, and I force a smile.

Glancing down at the phone again, my hand itches to call Hayley, and it’s not lost on me that I’d usually talk to Bria about this stuff. Especially since she knows the back story.

Shaking off my thoughts, I toss my phone into my locker and take another deep breath, drawing it in through my nose, out through my mouth.

It calms me for a beat until I remember if I don’t leave now, Coach is going to fine my ass.

It’s time to get my head in the game. I’ll have time to tackle this issue when I’m home. After we’ve celebrated.

When we’re on our way to the Super Bowl.

For now…we’ve got a game to win.