Page 69 of The Comeback

Well, that went well. Right? Yep. Totally mature and motherly already.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Weston

Shit. I pace the sidewalk in front of Charlotte’s studio as traffic zips by on the street. Someone in a parked vehicle honks their horn, causing my already jumbled nerves to fray.

When a woman with long blonde hair scurries past me, I frown. Maybe I should have stopped to shower or even brushed my hair. I haven’t shaved for three weeks. I probably look like a serial killer. I sniff and raise my eyebrows. I need a shower.

The speed at which she blew me off sliced me to shreds. It shouldn’t. I was the asshole who broke up with her. And then ghosted her.

Perfect. I rake my fingers through my hair and shove my cellphone into the back pocket of my jeans. Now, what? Do I sit in front of her place until she shows up? Do I leave? Do I forget all about her? Exactly how am I going to do that?

“Now what?” I mutter to no one because no one is listening. Unless the ants crawling on the sidewalk count. From the second I arrived back in Kansas City, seeing her and explaining myself was the only thing on my mind. And now, I can’t. What in the hell do I do?

A man brushes into me with his shoulder and spins on his heel while eyeing me up and down. “Sorry, man.” His eyes widen as he holds his cellphone against his ear. “Oh, my gosh, babe, I’ve got to call you back. You won’t believe who I ran into. Literally ran into.” He slides the phone into his back pocket and shoves out his hand. “I’m Jett McNeil, and you’re Weston Summers.” His eyes twinkle with excitement. “I’d know you anywhere. I played football against you in my freshman year of college.”

“Jett McNeil….” I return his greeting. “I remember you.”

“Awesome.” We end the handshake, and he cocks his head. “I can’t believe you’re now in Kansas City. One of my best buddies, Tyler Jones, plays on the team.”

“Yeah, I know him. He’s good.”

“He’s one of the best.”

“And so were you.” When did I last see him on the field? Two years ago? Maybe three. “I followed you after I graduated. It was a bad break when you got injured.” He’d blown out his knee before his senior year.

Jett shrugs. “I’m not going to lie. I didn’t lose any sleep over it. I loved the sport, but it wasn’t where my heart was.” A car screeches to a halt beside us and maneuvers back and forth until the driver parallel parks it, leaving a good two feet open in the front and barely enough room to fit a toothpick between the car and the vehicle behind it.

“What are you up to now?”

“I do tattoos and piercings.” He grins and crosses his arms over his chest. “If you ever need any work done, look me up. I’m at a place called Sinfully Twisted Ink.”

“I will.”

“Congratulations on the contract. It was on the news.”

My stomach dives to my feet. I wanted to tell Charlotte before the information was leaked, but in the internet age, the window to keep something secret is about fifteen seconds. We’re at an hour at this point. “Thanks.”

“Well, I’ve got to go. My wife’s grabbing cupcakes from the bakery. She’s in her second trimester now and can't get enough sweet stuff." He wrinkles his nose. “But with sour crap mixed in. It’s disgusting. Besides an eight-year-old kid and a pregnant woman, who would like a vanilla cupcake with gummy worms and Sour Patch Kids shoved in the top of the frosting? Now, I’m the nauseous one.” He waves and jogs down the sidewalk.

Lucky guy. He’s happier than I’ve ever been. He was a football God but walked away after an injury. He’s happy with his new career and clearly madly in love with his wife and expecting a baby. What do I have to show for myself? A big wad of money. What does that get me? Nothing. I’m the one standing on the sidewalk as people drive by, staring at me like I’m a homeless man.

****

An Hour Later

After I’m out of the shower, I study my reflection. I look human again. When I’d first passed in front of the mirror, I’d questioned how in the hell Jett had recognized me. If I didn’t know I’d been at training camp for three weeks, I’d assumed I’d been on a two-month bender.

I toss on a pair of shorts and a black T-shirt and check my phone–again. Nothing. Not that it’s a surprise. Only four people know this number—my mom and sister, my agent, and Charlotte. I’m ignoring the other phone. Random people congratulating me holds no interest. Without Charlotte, there’s nothing to be happy about.

Should I call her again? Stop. The last thing I need is a protection order for stalking. I toss the phone on the tightly tucked bed. Here I am. Still living in a hotel. With no one in my life but some dust bunnies swirling in the patches of light.

Knock. Knock. A soft rapping sound comes from the hallway door. My heart lurches to my throat. I run to the door, swinging it open. Piper. My shoulders sink.

“Seriously?” She frowns. “That’s all the happier you are to see me.”

“I’m sorry.” I embrace her and shut the door.

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