Page 142 of Lucky Shot
I happen to know that Matt has a sore spot when it comes to athletes. He was cut from his high school football team, and he’s been holding a grudge against jocks ever since. I open my mouth to defend Nick and every other player I met this summer, but before I can a server steps up beside me.
“Cookie?” She holds out a tray filled with a variety of options. Chocolate chip, sugar, and one M&M cookie.
I take it, smiling so hard that I lose track of the conversation and the anger I was feeling dissipates.
“Ruby?” Matt says my name.
“Sorry.” I blink a few times and refocus on him.
His expression is smug masked as polite amusement. “I asked if you heard the news aboutBecoming Alaricgetting picked up by Gradient Pictures?”
“Yeah, I think I saw that somewhere. Congratulations.”
The smile on his face falters, almost like he hoped I wouldn’t be so generous in my praise. He wants me to be pissed off or sad, anything other than detached. That way, he’s won. Not only did he steal my book idea, but he did so with wild success. I can’t change that, but I don’t have to stand here and let him see how it broke me. Past tense. I’m all put together now. Or ninety-nine percent anyway. Maybe that kind of break never fully heals but it’s no longer keeping me from moving forward.
“Excuse me,” I say to the rest of the circle. “I’m going to mingle.”
I only get two steps away when I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the cookie and send it to Nick. Our communication has become a series of pictures, cataloging our days, and a hundred unique variations that all say how much we miss each other.
He calls as I’m heading back up to my room.
“Hi!” I answer, already smiling before I hear his voice.
“Hey, Red.”
My eyes close and my grin widens.
“You there?”
“Yeah. Sorry. How are you?”
“Good. Just sitting on the back deck enjoying the sunset.”
I can picture him, feet kicked up, leaning back, and staring out at the water.
“That sounds nice. How was Aidan’s first day of school?”
“Good. He likes his teacher and Abigail is in his class.”
“Who’s Abigail?”
“She’s the Ruby Madison of fifth grade.”
“Is that a compliment?” I ask with a laugh.
“You know what I mean. She’s cute and cool and way out of his league—according to him.”
“You think I’m out of your league?”
“I know it.”
It isn’t true but I soak up his words anyway. “At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I really miss you.”
“I know. I keep looking over at the cabin expecting to see you sitting on the porch or walking down by the lake. How’s the convention?”
“It hasn’t really started yet. Today was filled with meetings and then a cocktail party.”
“Ooh fancy. What are you wearing?”
