Page 29 of Falling Faster
I bite my lip to hold back saying I'd hoped we'd have a longer time together. "I'll talk to you soon."
"Don't overwork yourself."
Despite the pit in my stomach, I manage a smile and lift my hand in a wave. "Right. I won't. You either."
The spark twinkling in his gaze at the call's start isn't as bright now. He brings his fingers to his lips, then his hand comes forward, to the screen. Almost like a kiss goodbye. And then his screen goes black.
Unsettled, I stare at the phone, replaying our conversation.Exhaustion limits my brain from firing on all cylinders. Everything feels muddy and uncertain. I'm afraid to get my hopes up that he'll be able to attend the party. Something else could come up, like another gig. He's already had another band reach out to see if he could join them for a special project and the details for that are up in the air.
I fight through another yawn and stand. My socked feet shuffling across the wood floors, I return to the kitchen. The oven is on and the scent of roasted chicken and potatoes fills the air. The papers and laptop still clutter the island, but Slater's coffee cup and the man himself are gone. A peek into the hall confirms Slater and Noah's bedroom door is closed. The stack of library books by the couch means Noah is home. He's probably in the bedroom, changing clothes, with Slater keeping him company.
A wave of exhaustion washes over me once again. Clutching the island's edge, I squeeze hard, willing it to pass. Another massive yawn overtakes me.
Despite the tiredness and the stress over Craig, I have work to do. I open the drawing app on my tablet. The superhero I created dominates the screen. Pencil in hand, I pause over the panel, unable to concentrate on his battle with the villain. My thoughts fly back to Craig.
The sound of a door opening is followed by Slater and Noah's voices, then footsteps in the hallway. They enter the kitchen. Noah meets my gaze and stops in his tracks. "You look upset."
"I'm okay." I glance at my coffee cup, debating another refill.
"No you're not," Slater says, crossing his arms over his chest. He moves toward me like a bodyguard intent on providing protection. "How was the call with Craig?"
Shrugging, I push off the stool. "All right. Well, no. Let's change that to not the best."
Noah and Slater exchange a glance, and Noah inclines his head before continuing to the fridge. He removes carrots, celery, lettuce, and a yellow pepper, then places them next to the tomato resting on the counter. "What happened?"
I shove my hands into my back pockets and pace from one side of the room to the other, studying the pattern in the wood grain. "The band asked him to record a song with them as soon as the tour ends. So he can't come for a visit like we'd planned. That's getting pushed back for a while."
"I'm sorry." Noah's voice is as soft as the comforting hand he lays on my shoulder.
I wish ditching my disappointment was as easy as releasing a breath or rolling my shoulders. But instead, it lingers, as gray as the clouds forming in the sky outside the window. "We're busy working on the comic anyway, and he has some work lined up later this month, so I guess waiting might be smarter for us. He said he'd try to be here for our launch party."
Slater plucks my coffee cup from the counter and brings it to the pot. "I'm sorry his visit got postponed. We know you were looking forward to it."
The dark brew flows into our cups, and the rich scent drifts on the air. Inhaling deep, I drag my hands through my hair. "He offered to fly out anyway, but we'd only have about twenty-four hours together between his flights. I can't put him through all the waiting at airports and being stuck cramped in a seat on those long flights for hours and hours. He needs to be at his best for recording."
He sets the coffee in front of me, along with the cream and sugar. "What if you went to see him? I know you said you don't have any vacation time left at the day job this year,but you could go for the weekend. Fly out on Friday late afternoon or evening and fly home on Sunday night. It's not a ton of time together, but you won't have to worry about him dealing with the airports and flights."
Stirring in the sugar, I watch the swirling liquid. "That's a nice idea. Maybe in a few months."
I need to wait until I've rebuilt my bank account, replacing the money I spent on the trip to LA. As professional hockey players, the amount of money Slater and Noah earn is so high above what I make it's not funny, though they never flaunt that fact or make things awkward.
Noah picks up his laptop from where it rests on the side counter. "You said Craig's last show is in LA?"
I pass Slater the container of creamer. "Yeah. The band has shows there Thursday and Friday. They booked hotel rooms so they don't have to worry about driving home in between shows. But he'll be back in his house on Saturday."
"Cool. Then that's where you'll be." Slater lays his hand on my shoulder. "Our treat."
Shaking my head, I back away, whipping my gaze from him to Noah. "No. I can't let you do that."
"Sure you can. We want to." Busy typing and clicking away, Noah gives me a brief glance before returning his focus to the screen. I spy the website of the airline we used when flying to LA for the convention. "You're helping Slater realize his dream of having the comic book series come to life. That's huge, Ty. We both appreciate you."
"Yeah, but that project is helping me. Slater brings great ideas and an audience. And you two have been so good to me." I doubt I'll ever be able to thank them for welcoming me into their lives and giving me a place in their circle of friends, not to mention that most of my friends now have come from knowing the pair. They've changed my life.
Noah steps back from his laptop and faces me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "We're friends. We can do things for each other. Now, I've booked the flights. You fly out Friday afternoon at four o'clock. The return flight is Sunday night at six-thirty. Direct flights, no layovers. We can take you to and from the airport so you don't have to worry about leaving your car, or dealing with ordering a rideshare. Since you're staying here anyway, it makes the most sense."
Overwhelmed, I clutch hold of his wrist. "I don't know what to say. Thank you doesn't seem like enough, but thank you."
Slater joins us and slips his arm around Noah's waist. The pair lean into each other, fitting perfectly. "You're a good guy, Ty. We've got your back."
