Page 62 of Bagging the Blueliner
I wasn’t in the mood for mind games. “That’s not what I was asking.”
“I’m sorry. Why don’t you use your words like a big boy.”
I could feel my blood pressure rising. “I am this fucking close to knocking your pretty-boy teeth out. Don’t treat me like one of your kids. Tell me what you know about Hannah not being here tonight.”
Jaxon gave me a smug smile. “Now, was that so hard?”
Clenching my fists, I held one up. “Don’t test me.”
Rolling his eyes, he replied, “From what I heard, she’s sick. Happy now?”
No, I wasn’t happy. “What kind of sick?”
“You seem awfully concerned for a guy who can’t stand the girl by all appearances.”
“And you’re not concerned enough that I’m on the edge and about to snap.”
Jaxon held his hands up in surrender. “Fine. She texted Nat earlier that she had a bad cold, maybe the flu.”
It had to be bad for her not to come to the game. Losing her voice and passing off her singing gig for a night or two wasn’t entirely out of the norm, but to not come at all? When she didn’t come out for the anthem, I glanced up to the family box, but there was no sign of her.
Hannah lived alone. If it was that bad, she might be too weak to care for herself. The idea of her needing help and being unable to call for it pierced my heart with terror.
I had to get to her. There was no other option.
The rest of the game passed in a blur. The press left me alone post-game once they realized I was in a mood, giving them one-word answers.
As soon as I was showered, I hustled out of the arena. Making one quick pit stop on the way home, I was at our building and punching the elevator button for the seventh floor.
Reaching the door to her apartment, I knocked gently. When there was no answer, I pounded harder with the side of my fist.
Fuck. The longer I stood there with no answer, the more panicked I became.
“Hannah!” I called out, my voice strained.
Still no answer.
Grabbing my phone, I texted her, praying her non-responsiveness was due to having no voice.
I’m outside your door. Let me in.
My heart hammered inside my chest while I waited to see if she would respond. When the phone buzzed in my hand, I sagged against the wall in relief.
Bad Decision:Go away. I’m sick.
I know. I came to make sure you’re okay.
Bad Decision:I’ll be fine. Just need rest.
Give me your code. I’ll let myself in.
Bad Decision:No. You can’t afford to catch what I have.
Lucky for you, I have a great immune system. Let me in. I brought basic bitch chicken noodle soup.
Bad Decision:Not nice. It hurts my chest to laugh.
Then give me the code. Stay in bed and let me take care of you.
