Page 88 of On the Line
Adding Brent to the title of the loft was a risky move, one that Brent might see as Mitch trying to cover his ass in the wake of the trade and hightailing it out of Detroit. But on those days when the Warriors were home and needed somewhere to unwind after a game away from the prying eyes of the city, he wanted them to make use of the space.
“It’s what I want. How soon can you get me that paperwork?”
“End of day tomorrow?” She said, phrasing it like a question. “Would that be okay? It’s nearly seven here, but I can get to it first thing in the morning.”
Mitch checked his watch. Shit, it was after dinner time there. The time change was going to take some getting used to. Then again, with no one but his mother back in Michigan to keep in touch with, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
“Great, Sherry. That’s perfect. Just fax it to the conference center here at my hotel and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Sounds good, Mitch. I can do that.”
“Great. And could you make sure Brent knows the loft is now his as well? I’ll continue to pay for maintenance and all that jazz, and handle the bookings for rentals. Just let him know he can use it whenever he wants.”
“You don’t want to tell him yourself?”
Mitch considered that. It wasn’t too late to take back what he’d done. His radio silence wouldn’t be surprising. In fact, Brent would understand. A broken phone in the heat of the moment was a solid excuse. But, he couldn’t so easily explain away the deleted social media profiles or the changed phone number and not even trying to say goodbye.
No, he was better off this way.
They all were.
“No, I don’t. Bye, Sherry.”
Asshehaddoneevery morning for the last three days, Lexie rolled toward her nightstand the second she woke up and grabbed her phone, unsurprised to find several notifications of texts and phone calls from Mitch on the screen.
In the end, she deleted the notifications without reading them.
Desperately, she wanted to talk to him and even went so far as to type out a response on several occasions, begging him to come over. Telling him that she fucked up and hadn’t meant any of it. That she loved him and needed him, and they would figure out the rest together.
But, she had made it pretty clear when he left her apartment three days before that she never wanted to see him again, that shecouldn’tsee him again.
It seemed Mitch wasn’t giving up without a fight, and she knew she couldn’t give in.
Being with him…it was too hard.
But that was beside the point. She had a life to live and a job to do, so she crawled out from under the covers and padded into the bathroom to take care of her morning routine.
Ten minutes later, she walked into her kitchen and poured a cup of coffee, setting a bagel in the toaster.
While she waited, she stalked into the living room and turned on the TV, instantly reminded that the last time it had been on was when Mitch was here that night, watching highlights on NHL Network while she got the condo ready for dinner with her parents.
God, what a stupid fucking idea that had been.
When she returned from grabbing her coffee and bagel, she settled herself on the couch and pulled the coffee table toward her, draping a blanket over her lap. It was early April, and she had turned her heat off already, but there was still a twinge of chill in the air.
Lexie tuned out much of the broadcast, which featured four men in suits seated around a table discussing the latest trade news and how the playoffs would look now that rosters were being shaken up.
A jingle sounded from the TV, a BREAKING NEWS banner ticking across the bottom, and Lexie waited to see who the next big name changing teams would be.
“We’ve just received word that Mitch Frambough has been traded from Detroit to Los Angeles,” the announcer said.
All the blood drained from Lexie’s face, and she stood quickly on stiff legs, almost falling over in the process, sprinting to her room where she had left her phone.
“Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up,” she chanted as it rang.
“Hello, you’ve reached Mitch. Leave a message.”
Lexie swallowed hard around the lump in her throat, forcing herself to take a couple deep breaths.
