Page 125 of Player Misconduct
Me: Saw the headlines. Ignore them. They'll move on.
Me: Can I bring you dinner tonight? Your choice.
All of them read. None of them answered.
The light turns green. Someone honks behind me. I toss the phone back into the cup holder and drive.
I'm halfway to the facility when my phone rings.
Not a text. An actual call.
My pulse kicks up, and I fumble for the phone, nearly dropping it in my lap. But the caller ID doesn’t say her name. It's a number I recognize from this morning: the moving company.
I answer, pressing the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"Hi, this is Scott with Westside Movers. Just returning your call from earlier this morning, before we opened, regarding your appointment for tomorrow."
Relief floods through me. At least this is still happening. At least she's still moving into the house.
"Yeah," I say, flipping on my turn signal. "Nine AM, right?"
There's a pause. A shuffle of papers.
"Actually, sir… We got a call late last night that this appointment was cancelled."
The word hits like a puck to the chest.
"Cancelled?" I repeat, my grip tightening on the wheel. "Or rescheduled?"
"No, sir. Cancelled outright. Kendall Hensen left a message stating that she didn't need the service anymore."
The world tilts.
"Are you sure?" My voice sounds strange, too controlled for the news I just received. "Maybe she changed companies?"
"I don't know, sir. All I know is she called and cancelled. No rescheduling. No forwarding information."
I swallow hard, forcing the words out. "Okay. Thanks."
I hang up before he can say anything else.
For a long moment, I just sit there, one hand on the wheel, the other still holding the phone like it might ring again and tell me this is all a mistake.
She cancelled the movers.
Why would she cancel the movers?
Maybe she's doing it herself, I tell myself. Maybe she hired someone else. Maybe she's just being stubborn. But the explanation feels too thin to hold any weight. Kendall doesn't just cancel things. She plans. She organizes. She triple-checks every detail because chaos is the enemy and control is the only thing that keeps her safe.
So if she cancelled… That means something more is going on. How does defending her and defending myself against a drunk asshole one night equate to halting our plans? I just don't get it, and she's not offering any explanation that makes any sense.
The parking lot at the facility is already full by the time I pull in.
I grab my bag, sling it over my shoulder, and head for the tunnel entrance. My phone buzzes again—another text from Trey, probably asking where I am—but I don't check it.
I just walk, trying to outrun the dread that's been building since the moving company called.
Inside, the familiar sounds of the locker room wash over me: It should ground me. It usually does. But today, all I can hear is the silence underneath it.
