Page 55 of Dream Chaser
After breakfast, I take my time heading back up to the room to grab my bag. Everyone else is moving fast, tossing bags onto the bus, stretching like they’re pretending this travel day is just another Sunday. I linger.
I’m not stalling … Okay, I am. I’m stalling hard.
Dragging my feet in case I spot her. Just a glimpse.
Izzy in the hall, in the elevator, grabbing coffee with the girls—anything. But the hallway’s empty. The elevator’s slow. The lobby? Quiet.
And when I finally board the bus, there’s no Izzy.
I slide into my usual seat, scanning the rows. Nothing. No Mags. No Lexi. No London. No Harper. No Syd. Riley and Lo are here, obviously because she wouldn’t leave Kolby when we was hurting, and Ry wouldn’t leave Lo.
I keep my cool. At least, I think I do.
Until I hear Bricks behind me.
“They took an earlier flight,” he says, like it’s nothing. “Left at the ass crack of dawn.”
That shouldn’t piss me off, but it does.
No note. No text … I mean, I don’t have her digits, so can I be pissed that she didn’t text? I mean, she probably has all of ours, so …
The fuck is wrong with me?
I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes.
As we get to the airport, I’ve figured it out. I need another round with Izzy Ross, just to make sure … to see if I feel this fucked up after round two.
Chapter 13
Blue Valley
Izzy
Sore doesn’t even begin to cover how I’m feeling.
I’m walking like I lost a bar fight with a sledgehammer, but I’ve managed to convince everyone that I’m just epically hungover.
At the airport, Lexi was loading my water bottle with hydration packets, London grabbed me greasy hash browns from one of the counter service restaurants at JFK with zero judgment, and Maggie told me to pull up my big girl panties. Thank God they bought it. Because there is no way I’m explaining that my thighs are pretty much bruised from Skinner’s seriously epic skills in the bedroom.
We landed back in Blue Valley at sunrise because we caught the earliest flight out when Mags caught wind that the entire damn town was planning a surprise welcome home parade for the Knights. We couldn’t miss that. These boys, the team, they deserve a proper homecoming, win or not.
Main Street is already packed with new banners, ones that do everything from calling out the refs to announcing them as the official winners.
Pickups are already parked along both sides of the road. Families bundled in puffy coats and knit hats have claimed their spots, draping quilts over tailgates, steaming thermoses in hand. There are lawn chairs and wagons decked out in black and gold streamers, kids holding signs that say things like “#54 is My Hero” and “Still Our Champs.”
The whole place smells like kettle corn and community pride.
I glance over at the girls as we all pull on another layer. Lexi’s got gold glitter under her eyes, and Mags is tying a Knights flag around her neck like a superhero cape.
My phone buzzes with a text from Dad.
Turn on the heat at Blue Valley Pub. People will need a place to warm up.
A second comes in from Mom via Dad’s phone.
And check upstairs. Just trust me. Mom.
My brows lift. “Looks like I’ve been given a mission.”
