Page 60 of Undeniably Perfect

Could this day get any worse?

As if on cue, the door to the building opens and Jarrod walks outside.

“Oh, there you are? I’ve been waiting for you,” he says when he sees me.

“Tabitha, is that Jarrod?” Eric asks.

“Yep,” I whisper.

“Fuck. Do not go inside.”

“Hold on one second, Jarrod. I need to finish this call with a client, OK?”

Jarrod looks at me suspiciously. “Fine, but we need to hurry.”

“Yep, just a second. I’m almost done.”

He nods and crosses his arms over his chest. For a small guy, he looks imposing. There’s something wild in his eyes, and it scares the shit out of me.

I’m about to see if I can make a run for it to the Uber car that’s now three blocks away when out of nowhere, the rain clouds that didn’t look so bad a few minutes ago suddenly darken and a flash of lightning strikes down toward the river.

Kent

I glance up as I come off the field. The first three innings flew by. I look up and see C-Dog but no Tabby. He waves to me, and I wave back. Something doesn’t sit well with me, and I don’t know why. I shake it off and head into the dugout just as the sky darkens. A few moments later, there’s a clap of thunder and lightning strikes as the sky opens up, and it begins to pour.

“Inside,” our coach says as we all go to wait it out in the locker room as the field staff pulls the tarp over the diamond.

I normally never look at my phone during a game. It’s a no-no, but my gut says to text her. So, I quickly grab it and send a text before my teammates can see me.

I leave the phone where I can see a reply, but as the minutes tick by, there is none.

One of our regular ball boys is sitting on a bench playing a game on his phone as we wait out the weather. This late in the playoffs, they likely will wait and not call the game. I feel stymied and claustrophobic. I want to leave the locker room, but I know I can’t do that.

“Jacob?” I yell to the kid.

He looks up with wide eyes at me. “You know my name?”

I laugh. “Uh, yeah, kid. I know your name. Can you do me a quick favor?”

He runs over to me like I’m the fucking King and I just called on him to command my army in battle. “Sure!”

“Can you go to section one hundred, seats ten and eleven? It should be my brother and my friend. If she’s not there, ask my brother where she went,” I ask him.

“Yeah, sure. Why aren’t they in the players’ box?” he asks.

I grin. “My family has season tickets. They’ve had them forever, even before I played for the team.”

“Oh, gotcha.”

He runs off, and Ward distracts me with a story about him and Nate going out last weekend. I’m half paying attention when Jacob runs back in, and there is a frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Uh, your brother says your ‘friend’ left about an hour or so ago in the first inning, and she should have been back by now. He’s a little worried and can’t get her on her cell phone. Anyhow, your brother says to check the family chat.”

I groan. The fucking family chat. They know it’s game time, and I can’t check that shit.

I reach behind me and pull out my phone. I have a lot of missed texts, including a whole slew of them from the family chat.

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