Page 116 of Wild Love
“Really?” I hadn’t expected him to say yes. “You really are a good captain, stocking your boys’ favorite drinks.”
He brings me a bottle of MD 20/20. “Never know when you’re going to have to step in with words of wisdom and booze.”
“So far, your words of wisdom are shit.”
“Yeah, I do better when it’s related to hockey. Hence the booze.”
I unscrew the cap and take a long drink. It doesn’t hit the same way, and I groan. “I’ve lost the ability to taste.”
“Oh geez.” Jack runs a hand through his hair. “I might need to call in reinforcements.”
Ash and Leo show up next. They live in the neighborhood, just down the street. They show their support with sad smiles and drinking in solidarity. Ash offers to take me to the strip club. I accost Leo for every detail about his interaction with Dakota earlier.
By the time I’ve finished the bottle of Mad Dog, the party is huge. When girls start trying to cheer me up by sitting in my lap, I’m out.
Declan offers me a sober ride back to the apartment, and I accept it. He drives my SUV and says he’ll come get his motorcycle tomorrow.
“You’ll have your vehicle in case you decide to go after her,” he says. “But promise me you’ll wait twelve hours or so and let the alcohol ooze out of your system.”
“Promise.” I hold up my pinky, but he doesn’t link his with mine like Heath would have. I miss him. I miss Dakota. I miss my life before I screwed everything up. What was so wrong with being her secret slam piece? At least then I had her to go home to.
Inside, I grab Charli and we lie on the god-awful pink couch. Charli jumps down with a whine and jogs around as if she’s looking for Kota.
“We’ll get her back,” I promise her and pat my chest until she hops back up to keep me company. “Somehow.”
* * *
I callHeath Friday afternoon when I still haven’t heard from her. Yes, I’ve resorted to using our friends for information.
“She hasn’t said a lot. At least not to me. Last night, they kicked Adam and me out to have girl time. Ginny is hungover as fuck today.”
I hadn’t really expected her to sit on the couch and recount the entire thing to our friends, but I wonder what she’s told them. Do they know we got married? I’m guessing not, or Heath would be giving me so much shit right now.
“Did she get the flowers? And the balloons?”
“Yeah, man, their place is one flower arrangement away from looking like someone died in there.”
“Someone did.” I’m lying on the pink couch, my new favorite spot, arm thrown over my face.
I don’t have to look at the screen of my phone to know Heath is holding back laughter. I can hear it in his voice. “Dude. No one died. You’re going to be fine. You two will work this out. She just needs—”
He stops mid-sentence, and I hear Dakota and Ginny’s voices in the background. I can’t make out their words, but I can hear her, and everything inside of me lights up and then dies all over again. Fuck, I miss her.
38
Dakota
There arethree weeks before the fall semester starts. The apartment building is starting to fill up again, and most of the jocks are back for preseason training, which means there is no shortage of things to do and parties to attend. Not that I have any interest in any of it.
Ginny and Reagan have been great. I’ve never been the one that needed consoling, and they keep looking at me with big, sad eyes that I know are from a good place but make me feel worse because I know I must look as awful as I feel.
Two nights ago, we had a night in and watched sappy movies and ate ice cream and all of the queso in Valley. Not together, but it was still glorious.
But after too many days of feeling sorry for myself, it’s time to do something. I lace up my shoes and go for a long run. Running has always been an outlet for me. I was a sporty kid, but I didn’t start running competitively until after my mom died. It was one place where no one asked me if I was okay or questioned my silence. If you sit alone in the cafeteria at school, people whisper. But not when you run. I didn’t realize at the time how much those runs allowed me to escape, but as I once again find myself searching for solitude, I realize this is where it’s always been okay for me to not be okay.
When I get back to the apartment, I feel lighter than I have since returning to Valley. Reagan is in the kitchen, standing and eating a bowl of cereal.
“Another delivery came.” She points to a box on our kitchen counter. All the lightness fades in an instant.
