Page 3 of Bourbon Bliss
Her back straightened and she shifted away. “You’re retiring?”
I nodded. There wasn’t much more to say.
The curve had gone out of her spine, so she no longer arched her back, emphasizing her boobs and admittedly fantastic ass. She had a wicked resting bitch face and it was out in full force. No more softness. No more compassion.
“I didn’t realize.” She stood, clutching her small sequined purse to her body. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Shit happens,” I said, spreading my arms wide again. Still playing the part of the guy who was too mellow to let anything faze him.
“Of course,” she said, faking another smile. “Good to see you, GT. Take care.”
I tipped my chin. “Take care.”
She walked away without looking back. It didn’t matter that her ass looked great in that dress. The sultry sway of her hips left me feeling nauseated, not aroused.
I wasn’t sure why being rejected by a woman I didn’t want stung so bad, but it did. The second she’d realized my career was over, she’d been out. Totally uninterested. It shouldn’t have surprised me. But I’d thought MacKenzie might care enough to at least ask if I was okay. Maybe be concerned about my future. Ask what I was going to do next.
But she hadn’t. And it shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.
I looked around at my teammates—my friends. At the girls dressed to kill in their tight dresses and expensive heels. I was surrounded by beauty. Attractive people, beautiful clothes. But it was hollow. Empty and meaningless. And I realized I was ready to move on. Ready to leave the life of a pro athlete behind me and take a new path.
My knee still fucking hurt, and MacKenzie’s rejection stung. But there had to be more for me out there somewhere. A world that valued me for more than playing a game.
And maybe she was out there, too. The woman who’d see me as more than a guy who was good at catching a ball.
2
June
The text from my sister Cassidy came just as I was finishing my work day, her number lighting up my phone. I waited to check while I finished what I was doing. I plugged a few more numbers into the spreadsheet, already knowing the result. I could do the calculations in my head faster than I could create the data sets and tables. But my client needed the numbers to exist somewhere other than my brain. Hence, spreadsheets and graphs.
With that finished, I saved my work and closed my laptop. I worked from my home office eighty-nine-point-two percent of the time. The other ten-point-eight percent was spent in Baltimore, where my company was located. I was an actuary, and a highly-paid one at that. I’d started my career working for a large insurance company, but made the switch to consulting a few years ago. It was a situation that suited me well. I liked my work—and was proficient at it—but staying in Bootleg Springs had been a priority. My current arrangement allowed me to do just that.
Contrary to what my sister seemed to believe, I didn’t stay in Bootleg because I was afraid to venture into the wider world. I stayed because it suited me. It was quiet—most of the time, at least. I knew everyone in town. I had a routine. My family was here. I saw no compelling reason to leave.
I picked up my phone to read Cassidy’s text.
Cassidy: Girls’ night Juney! We’re going to the Lookout. Pick you up at 8?
Me: It’s Thursday.
Cassidy: So?
Me: We go out on Fridays.
Cassidy: I know but it’s spontaneous. Scarlett and Leah Mae are coming, too. It’ll be fun.
Me: Okay, but picking me up won’t be necessary. I’ll meet you there.
I sighed and put down my phone. I didn’t particularly want to go out tonight. It was a weeknight, but that didn’t mean the Lookout would be any less rowdy than a Friday. It would be loud, and there would probably be a bar fight.
But I liked making my younger sister happy. Not that I had any idea why drinking alcoholic beverages in a noisy bar produced feelings of happiness in Cassidy and her friends. But it did, so I obliged.
There were a lot of things I didn’t understand about Cassidy. In fact, there were a lot of things I didn’t understand about people in general. I’d accepted that a long time ago. I didn’t try to fit in or figure out why humans perplexed me. I didn’t understand them, but I didn’t have the drive to try either.
People were odd. They said things they didn’t mean and did things that bore no relationship to what they said. I found them unpredictable, and therefore uncomfortable.
Numbers, on the other hand, made sense. They were reliable. They obeyed the rules and behaved in a predictable manner. As an example, I could do complex mathematical equations in my head, but I couldn’t fathom why my sister and Bowie had failed to engage in a romantic relationship for years, when it had been clear to everyone they had feelings for each other.
