Page 66 of Leave It On The Field (Grand Slam 3)
“Shh,” I say, rushing over to her. “I think your mom will literally break down the door and kill me if she thinks I woke you up.”
“Was she here? Is it morning?”
I sit down beside her on the couch and take her face into my hands. “She just left. It’s Tuesday, six p.m. You got into L.A. a few hours ago. Are you okay? You look like you’re going to pass out.”
She tries to get up. “I’m fine. I just need some water. I’m really dehydrated.”
“Stay. I’ll get it for you. I just got back from practice. I’ve been trying to call you.”
“Oh, sorry,” she says, squinting at me. She still looks really out of it. “I turned off my phone. I was getting crazy messages about the incident.”
“Which incident? The “conjugal visit” incident or the Ricky-at-the-plane incident?”
She tilts her head. “Who told you about the Ricky thing?”
“Dad.” I sit down and take her hand. “I’m so sorry for what he said to you, baby. You know none of it’s true.”
“I know.” She chugs half the bottle of water. “Why didn’t you tell me you kicked them off the plane? I could have at least been prepared.”
“I didn’t think he would come to the airfield after Dad texted him that he didn’t have a seat.”
“You should have told me, though,” she says. “I hate when I don’t have all of the information.”
“You’ve been so happy. I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“Well, you did.” She straddles me and loops her arms around my neck. She looks directly into my eyes. “Seb, we’re supposed to tell each other everything. Remember? We promised after all that miscommunication kept us apart after we met. Everything. The minute it happens.”
“Yeah, I remember,” I say, leaning my forehead against hers. “I messed up. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she says, running her hands through my hair. “Just don’t do it again. Tell me everything. Always.”
“I promise.”
“Thank you. Now can we stop talking and maybe make better use of our first alone time in three days?”
“My thoughts exactly. What did you say the other day? That you wanted me to service you?” I pull out the collar of her shirt and peek inside. “Let me look under your hood. I think it’s time for your annual inspection.”
“Oh my god,” she says, giggling as I flip her onto her back. “You’re the worst at role play.”
“Then I promise,” I say, letting my hand slowly move down her body, “I’ll be very good at everything else.”
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