Page 19 of The Heartbreak Blitz

“Very. Do you realize you guys share a name?”

“Great. I share a name with a dog.”

“Not just any dog. I’ve never had a game without him. As far as I’m aware, he’s been a tradition since the eighties.”

“I feel so much better,” she says, rolling her eyes.

I want to laugh because no one can be this miserable. Instead, I give her a grin. “I’ll catch you in the morning. If Coach gave you a curfew, know he’s very strict about it.”

“I don’t plan on leaving my room,” she says, her lips a thin line.

“You know, you don’t give much for people to go on.”

Her empty gaze meets mine and then shifts away again. Case in point, but at least I’ll take the hint.

“See you in the morning, Charley Heywood.”

She doesn’t respond, and when I peer over my shoulder before walking down the bus stairs, she’s checking messages on her phone. I’m dying to peek, to get insight into what kind of person she is. What kind of wallpaper does she use on her phone? A picture? I doubt it. She seems like a monotone girl to me. It’s probably black or dark blue.

She starts tapping at her keyboard, and now I’m wondering who she’s talking to. A friend? Family? I’ve never had anyone so closed off from me.

I file all of the info away and get off the bus. It’s been a long day, and I know if I attempt small talk, she’ll throw up roadblocks again.

With my bag pulled up my shoulder, I wave to the dude at the front desk. My teammates are milling around, some of them sitting in the lobby, others raiding the small store for some last-minute snacks before curfew hits. A few more are waiting for the elevator, so I join them next to a couple with a young girl. She holds the hand of a doll in a tiny fist, the other firmly in her daddy’s grip.

“What’s your doll’s name?” I ask.

“Evie,” she says softly.

“Well, that’s a pretty name.”

She smiles up at me at the same time the elevator dings, announcing its arrival. My teammates let the family on first andthen they pile in after. When I step in, the little girl’s cute voice whispers, “Are we going to get smooshed, Daddy?”

The guys all chuckle. Luckily, the door closes without issue, and I await the fourth floor. By the time it’s my turn, the couple and the little girl are the only ones left on the elevator. I wink at her and get off, then take a look at my room key again to see what number I’m in.

435. I’d have preferred an even number, but it’ll be fine. Back in the day, we would switch rooms with our teammates if we didn’t like the vibe, but the coaching team cut down on that when it was brought to their attention that in case of an emergency, their records needed to be right. I snap a picture of the number and send it to the group chat.

Responses start coming in immediately.

Lex: You’re dropping a pass tomorrow, bro. Sorry.

Me: Dude. Fuck off.

Reid: He’s right. Those are a whole bunch of odd numbers.

Me: It’s two to one.

Lex: We don’t make the rules.

Briar: You guys are ridiculous. Cade, go out there and have the best game of your life.

Me: Thanks, sis.

Briar: Or maybe you’ll tackle another unsuspecting girl on the sidelines.

Me: Right through the heart. You guys aren’t playing around tonight. Don’t worry, that girl is the coldest person I’ve ever met in my life.

Reid: I can picture it now.

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