Page 65 of Delicate Storm

“Yeah. I do. But this is important, and my wife would understand that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not as lucky.”

Luke grimaces before running his hand through his hair. “Fuuck. I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” I cut him off. “Coach is calling you to line up,” I lie, watching as Luke turns in the direction we last saw Coach before I walk away, leaving him alone. Fucking “support gang.” We’re not friends. I’ve left that chat more than I’ve contributed to it. I’m good with group workouts. Or talk about the game. But I don’t need to be involved in anyone else’s business, and they don’t need to be involved in mine.

A memory of my day out with Luke comes to mind and I internally groan. I should have left him alone because now he won’t shut up about it. And yet, I can’t completely regret it because it seems to have helped him. I can, however, refuse to do it again.

Coach actually blows the whistle for us to line up, and my mind shifts into game mode. Though I do find myself glancingover at Reed. I hate to say it, but Luke’s right—Reed’s usually sunny persona seems to have disappeared.

Though I have full confidence in Luke and Dylan to help him out.

I throw myself into our practice session, pushing myself to the limits, blocking the world out of my mind. And when I’m done, Paige’s dad is waiting on the sidelines, his gaze directed at me, a smile on his face, while I have no doubt mine pales as the blood drains away.

“Easton, hi. Can I have a word?”

“Of course.” I force a smile but…Fuck. He found out. We haven’t even been formally introduced, so why else would he know me by name and want a word with me. I’m about to be fucked…and not in a good way.

“What can I do for you?” I ask when we’ve moved out of earshot.

He smiles awkwardly and huffs out a breath.Here it comes.“I need to get in touch with Keeley and she’s not answering her phone.”

“What?” I do a double take and he laughs.

“Sorry, I know I’m not supposed to know about the two of you. But she mentioned it, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Again, what?A few days ago she hadn’t even met him, and now he’s desperate to speak to her?

“Ah. She…”Dammit. How do I tell him that Keeley’s taken the morning off to look after my son because my mom had an appointment? “She usually switches her phone off in meetings,” I say instead. “I think she mentioned she had one until around midday today.”

“Great.” He breathes a sigh of relief. “Perfect. I’ll try her again after that. Thank you.”

He pats my back before walking away and it’s my turn to sigh. We were lucky if we saw the previous owner once a monthand that was usually just in passing. I swear Paige’s father is everywhere. Or am I just seeing him so much because I don’t want to? Kind of like when you buy a new truck that you think is unique and then all of a sudden everyone has one. Fuck, he’s just like Paige. Until now. Now she’s disappeared. And I should consider that a blessing. Because while I’m certain Salvatore D’Angelo doesn't know about Paige and me, with hundreds of new faces for him to remember, he now knows mine. And that’s one step closer to him finding out.

Determined to push Paige from my mind, I detour on my drive home to avoid going past the newsstand. Only I find myself looking for the damn magazine at the gas station when I fill up my truck. And then again at the register of the store when I stop to grab food for the week.

But like Paige, it’s nowhere to be found.

It’s like that newsstand had the only copy in existence. Or I imagined the whole damn thing. Which is possible with the million things I have running through my head at any given moment.

When I finally make it home, sans magazine, the apartment is unusually quiet. I panic until I see a text from my mom telling me she’s taken Isaac to the pool and to use the time to rest.

To rest.

I’m not sure I even know what that feels like anymore. There’s always something twisting my body in knots, and today, it’s Paige.

After unpacking the groceries and deciding on dinner, I spend twenty minutes flicking through the options on TV, hoping todistract myself from my thoughts but failing miserably until I find a replay of the Giants baseball game from the weekend.

Feet up, I take Mom’s advice and it’s surprisingly not as difficult as I thought it would be.

I’m partway through the second inning when the door slams open and Isaac comes charging through the house. “Daaadddy.”

“In here, Little Buddy.” I sit up just in time for him to dive on top of me.

“Can we play the pinning game?”

“The spinning game? Now? It’s almost dinnertime.”

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