Page 111 of The Setup Man

I glance up to see it’s?—

10:01 p.m.

My stomach lurches.

One minute.

One stupid minute.

I swear under my breath. Now she’s going to wonder why I hesitated.

Three dots appear almost immediately.

My heart pinches.

Scottie

Are you sure you made curfew? Looks like you were a minute late.

I exhale and start typing:Sorry. Meant to send that at ten.

My thumbs hit the delete button.

I can’t say that. It’s too revealing. She’ll know I was agonizing over a stupid emoji.

I try again.

Lucas

Nah, just a long day.

Scottie

I hear you.

I stare at her text and then hit my head with my phone a few times, trying to breathe.

Lucas

I know. I’m sorry.

Scottie

Me too.

Night Lucas.

Lucas

Night Quinn.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Scottie

The drink Lucas sent this morning tells me a lot about how he’s feeling: dark roast, cream, and barely a hint of sugar.

Three hours later as I’m standing outside the van that’ll take me and the players to the youth clinic, the bitterness lingers on my tongue.