Teardrop Shot Page 6

  Without looking, I knew who the texts were from, and then I was wishing for the fly instead.

  That song played every time Lucas texted, which meant he… I had no clue what it meant, actually. I hadn’t heard a word from him since Newt broke the news to me and I’d left the next day with Trent.

  I did the math, which was hard, and we were at the forty-eight-hour mark. So either Lucas just found out or the next girl had already dumped him.

  I considered for a second, and my money was on the girl. I rolled over and picked up the phone.

  Lucas: Why aren’t you answering my texts?

  Lucas: Where are you?

  Lucas: Gramps said you came by. I missed you.

  Lucas: I miss you now.

  Lucas: You’re still not answering—

  He was covering his ass. There were twenty other texts from him, and I deleted all of them—without blinking, without a second thought, without reading. One by one, I wiped them clear, and once the screen was blank, a satisfied smile came to my face.

  I lie back down, closing my eyes. I could get another twenty minutes of shut-eye.

  BUZZ.

  It was louder now that I was awake.

  Groaning, I flipped the phone on and hit call. I was ready for him, expecting him to answer.

  It rang, and rang, and then, “This is the Luc-machine. Say your piece and I might listen…”

  He didn’t answer and he’d literally just texted.

  After the beep, I said, “Dude. You were fucking another girl. Your grandpa told me. We’re done, and save your drool. You were the guy to help me get over someone ten times better than you. I used you, so whatever. We’re through. You’re not worth the time it took to call you.” I started to hang up, but brought the phone back to my mouth. “Do not call, text, send smoke signals, think about me, or jerk off to me. Done, Luc-you-bet-your-ass-you’re-an-ass. BYE, Felicia.”

  There.

  I hung up, then wiped him from the phone and his number too.

  Then I realized the last text hadn’t been from him.

  Trent: Hey. Call me later. Want to make sure you’re okay.

  Well… I sat and stared at it, and groaned. Shit on me.

  Me: Sorry I flaked last night. I’m fine. How was your flight?

  I studied my phone after that, looking at the history, and saw that Lucas had texted all day yesterday. They just all came flooding in at the same time because reception was iffy on this island.

  Well...still didn’t matter. He cheated. We were done.

  A new text came in.

  Unknown: Bitch.

  That was Lucas.

  I laughed, and once I started, I kept going.

  I was tempted to tell him I’d met Reese Forster last night, just for some revenge, but it wasn’t worth risking my NDA. He was the type to call Keith and tattle on me, or worse—show up so I would introduce him.

  I groaned. I was too awake now. It was five in the morning. I’d gotten four hours of sleep. But in camp life, that was almost eight hours. Reese Forster had kept running drills until twelve-thirty. I could’ve kicked him out at midnight, but I hadn’t had the heart.

  I’d turned the light off in the cage, though, so when he was done, he must’ve thought I’d gone.

  I was like a creepy statue against the wall, just to the side of the counter. If he had looked in and to his left, he would’ve seen me there. I’m sure that would’ve gone over well, but he hadn’t. He put the ball on the counter, made sure it didn’t fall off, and left, hitting the light switch as he went.

  It had been dark, but a little bit of moonlight showed through the screen door, so I could see enough to take the ball and put it on the floor, then feel around for the door handle. My phone was in my pocket. I had been just leaving the cage, pulling my phone out to light the way, when I heard the screen door open again.

  It was Forster.

  I held still, not moving an inch.

  He’d walked clear across the courts and checked the other screen door, shaking it and then locking it after he found it open.

  He never turned the light on again, just rotated swiftly, retraced his steps, and locked the first door behind him.

  The locks on the screen doors didn’t really hold. If someone wanted to break in, they could’ve just ripped the door open with a bit of extra oomph. But still, his concern had me melting.

  I didn’t know where he was staying, but there was a good chance he was at the staff headquarters. They were the nicest place to stay, and Keith had closed it down for campers during this session. Forster was just about the best kind of camper there was, and if that’s where he was going, he would’ve taken the same path as I needed to.

  Stalking him in the dead of the night was a step this girl wasn’t ready to take.

  So I held back and sat on a bench just outside the gyms. After giving him a few minutes’ head start, I let out a soft sigh and headed down the trail by myself.

  If anyone tells you walking down a wooded path by yourself, at night, on an island with no lights is peaceful—they’re lying to you. They’re straight-up bullshitting you, because it wasn’t. I felt like I’d spent half my life at this camp, and even I got freaked out. My phone’s light was a small help, but not much. Visions of deer running at me, ready to spear my chest with their antlers or hoof me to death had me picking up my pace. Then there was the slight whiff of skunk. I was probably imagining it, but by then, I didn’t need to add much more to get to full sprint. And because the path was made of wood chips, I was trying to run while picking up my feet so my toes wouldn’t get caught up on anything.

  My knees were rising almost to my chest, making my phone bounce so much that I about clipped myself in the chin with it.

  I turned it off, but I could still imagine how ridiculous I would’ve looked to anyone wandering around with night-vision goggles.

  And then I started thinking about the time people had snuck onto the island and we’d had to catch them and escort them back off. That had taken a coordinated effort by most of the staff, and tonight was just me.

  So now I was running from deer, skunk, and any random island intruders.

  I’d been out of breath by the time I got to my cabin, welcomed by the faint odor of fish.

  That had been my night, and so far my morning was off to a bang-up start. After chilling myself to the bone because it was seriously cold at five in the morning, I dressed and stuffed a bag full of whatever I grabbed. I wouldn’t have much time to run back here since Keith wanted the courts open almost all day. A few minutes later, after lacing up my sneakers, I hit the path again.

  There was still not much light, but my absolute exhaustion pushed all my scary thoughts away. If a deer, skunk, or intruder tried to mess with me, they’d be the stupid one. I was also a little more rational this morning. Daylight tended to bring back the sanity, just a bit. And I was tired. Tired meant I wasn’t a happy Charlie. I needed coffee before dealing with life, hence I’d chosen the best time for my call to the ex dipshit.

  That cheered me a bit.

  I was almost smiling when I got to the clearing between the gym courts and the main lounge. Keith had said he wanted it open at five am. I was thirty minutes late, but no one was here. I was pretty sure my job was safe. I unlocked the courts and flipped on all the lights.

  The air was still crisp. I had slipped on a sweatshirt over my T-shirt and jean shorts, and shivering, I tugged the zipper up. It went up the side, all the way to my neck. I’d thought it was cute and trendy when I bought it, but it pinched my skin now, and I cringed. Oh well. I liked how it looked, so I was keeping it, even if it made me bleed.

  I opened the cage, put Forster’s ball up on the rack since I’d left it on the floor, and grabbed the list of inventory.

  I started going through everything, but I was yawning so hard that it was making me tear up by the time I got to the relay equipment. That was three minutes later.

  I needed coffee. I didn’t care how distrustful
Keith was. I was going to leave the courts unlocked (gasp, then hiss), and I was going to get coffee in the main lobby.

  Putting a few basketballs outside the cage door, just in case someone showed up, I headed out. The cage was locked up. My bag was with it, hidden in the back with the hockey sticks, and I was just leaving through the back door when I more sensed them than saw them.

  Reese Forster and Juan Cartion were jogging down the walking path.

  All in gray, Reese had his hood up and head down, with sweatpants hanging low from his narrow hips. They ended around his calves. His shoes were neon yellow—the entire shoe, even his laces.

  As the path broke out from the trees, Juan’s head was up, and his eyes met mine.

  They weren’t anywhere close to me, but I still stepped back. My back hit the building behind me, and I stayed put, almost the exact same posture I’d taken last night when Forster brought his ball back to the cage.

  Like last time, he never looked up.

  He and his best friend ran right past me, going around to the front of the gym building and turning down the path that’d take them to the lake.

  I’d swear I saw some amusement in Juan Cartion’s gaze, but I wasn’t sure, and after waiting another few seconds—as if they were going to magically run back—I smoothed a hand over my shirt. My heart was beating so fast.

  This was ridiculous.

  I couldn’t keep almost having a heart attack every time I saw these guys. They were campers. I was staff.

  Three weeks, or more like two and a half weeks.

  I was on day two and almost pissing my pants at just the thought of seeing Reese Forster.

  I needed a trick. Something to help me calm down.

  I needed to think of him naked.

  My pulse skyrocketed.

  Yeah. That wasn’t going to help.

  I needed to... I went through some ideas.

  Maybe I could just focus on his penis.

  Another skip in my pulse. That wasn’t helping, because I thought of why I would see his penis, and whoa boy—I got lightheaded.

  Think of him vomiting.

  Nope. I just wanted to help clean him up.

  Think of him taking a piss.

  And there was that penis again.

  The same with taking a dump.

  He was naked. He was squatting.

  There might’ve been a smell, but there was his body in all its glory. I’ve seen pictures of him playing without his shirt. Goooorgeous.

  I bit my lip, squelching a groan. So not helping.

  Damian.

  That hit me like a bat to my chest.

  Everything was gone—the nerves, the flutters, the feeling of just feeling. Thinking of Damian took it all away.

  I swallowed over that bark lump. It wasn’t right, or it shouldn’t have been, that just a memory could strip someone of everything.

  But it worked.

  Owen and Hadley had been running behind on making breakfast when I came in for my coffee. They had a sick kid, so they had to keep taking turns going back to the house to check on little Noah until Owen’s mom got there. They had one of the two houses on the island. Keith had the other. (Boo, hiss)

  And speaking of Keith…

  In another accidental-genius moment, I snagged a pair of radios and put one in the court and the other in the kitchen. Now I would hear if someone showed up, and like Owen and Hadley with their kid, I’d run out to check on the courts. Until then, I stayed in the kitchen to help with the food. The players were starting to trickle in, and I was behind the dish window again, waiting for Keith to show up for his coffee.

  It was almost clockwork. Even after all these years.

  Ten minutes till we started serving, he breezed in.

  Khaki shorts. A green polo shirt. His Boss mug in hand. He filled it up, then entered the kitchen to talk to Owen. Seeing me, he stopped whatever he’d been about to say and blinked a few times.

  I wasn’t about to defend myself for not sitting in an empty gym when my two friends had a sick kid and needed help. He was beyond an asshole if he was going to light into me for that. After staring at me a couple more seconds, he turned back to Owen.

  Clearing his throat, he asked, “How’s the morning going?”

  I tuned them out, going back to washing what dishes I already could.

  I was on my third pan when I heard the players coming in.

  The Damian effect was still with me. I’d felt it the whole morning since I’d let myself think of him, and it prevented my usual freak-out when the guys came in. I almost felt like a normal person. I was just standing here, doing dishes. No idiotic questions burst out of me like a backward fart, and I hadn’t even felt the usual amount of anger toward Keith when he came in. That would change, but for now, I almost felt melancholy.

  As if sensing he was safe, Reese Forster walked in with Juan Cartion right behind him and a couple other players too.

  Normal Charlie would’ve categorized every single person. I would’ve taken note of what they were wearing, how they were walking, how I thought they might’ve smelled. All of it.

  But melancholy Charlie only looked at him a moment before finishing my pan and putting it through the washer.

  See? Normal.

  I could do this.

  Thoughts of the ex-soulmate who had shattered me were going to be my friend for the next three weeks.

  These three weeks were going to suck.

  I inhaled, feeling my lungs tremble, and swallowed over a couple knives in my throat. My hands shook slightly when I reached for the next round of dishes, but then I firmed everything. Whatever. I could do this.

  It’d been a year. I should’ve dealt with the Damian trauma long before now anyway.

  I’d have to look up nearby therapists at this rate—or write my book. Shit. I’d forgotten that was the main excuse for coming out here. Yes. Maybe I should plan to actually work on that thing.

  I don’t know why I looked up. Might’ve been the hairs on the back of my neck shifting. They didn’t stand up. It wasn’t that type of feeling that was trickling down my back, but it was an awareness.

  I glanced up and that nice soft trickle ramped up in volume. I was scorched to the bone.

  Reese Forster was staring at me.

  He sat at a table a few yards away, and while his teammates were talking, he was looking right at me.

  I paused with the dishes.

  The whole thing only lasted a second or two, but the world melted away. I felt a pounding in my chest. Maybe it was my heart. Maybe it was Damian wanting to tear out of me. Whatever it was, I swallowed over that damn lump that seemed permanently lodged there, and I stopped what I was doing.

  Until he looked away.

  One of the guys spoke to him, and he turned to answer.

  The spell was broken, but I felt the remnants still inside of me.

  I was a mess—a very literal jumbled mess that had bones and skin keeping it together, but it really hit me at that moment. I mean, it had hit me at various times over the last year, and I was doing this whole denying routine to keep myself from falling apart, but in this moment, the reality of how destroyed I was inside became crystal clear.

  I was nearing thirty. Three years away was really not that long.

  I’d been fired from a job I kinda enjoyed doing, but also didn’t really give two craps about at the same time. It was something that paid the bills and I hadn’t hated it.

  I was now doing dishes at my old childhood job, literally hiding from my life, and I had no idea how to move forward.

  I snuck a look at Owen and Hadley. It made sense that they were here.

  Owen had a plan. The normal kitchen staff were off, otherwise Owen was the one who usually ran things around here. Even Keith being here made sense. He was the director. Those were two respectable careers, and Hadley was here to support her husband. They had kids. She was a mom too. That was the most important job in the world.

  Grant was head of the m
aintenance crew. That was a good job anywhere.

  What the hell was I doing?

  I had no kids. No boyfriend. No life.

  I was trying to keep myself from becoming a gawking stalker. I mean, pathetic much? That was me.

  The normal staff were usually college kids, doing a fun job during the summers while they went to school to get to the real careers they wanted in life. Even they had direction.

  I was embarrassed.

  “Charlie.”

  I literally jerked out of my thoughts, stepping backward and hitting the wall behind me. Two drying crates hung there crashed to the floor.

  Keith had been making an announcement, but he stopped, and everyone looked at me.

  I hissed, feeling the tears on my face.

  Grant had been the one to say my name, his eyes now narrowing before he looked around us.

  He stepped forward, shielding me from the rest of the room, except I looked around him. Reese Forster still had a direct line of sight to me, and he was staring like everyone else—except his jaw was clenched. His eyebrows pulled down, and he frowned.

  Was he mad at me? Because I was crying?

  Feeling an irrational burst of anger, I flipped him off.

  The dish window hid most of me, but I raised my hand to my waist, with just the one finger showing. His eyes dropped to it and lingered.

  I waved it from side to side until I realized what I was doing and tore myself away.

  Then I did what I always did.

  I went to the back of the kitchen and hid. What’s one more embarrassing moment to pile on with all the others?

  My heart raced and beat loudly in my ears as I bent down at the back sink to wash my hands. When that didn’t help calm me, I cupped a handful of water and splashed it on my face.

  That helped. A little. It disguised the tears anyway.

  Owen and Hadley had been in the office, so they didn’t know what happened. They were coming out now, and I heard Grant ask them, “Where’d Charlie go?”

  Hadley answered, “I don’t know. Why?”

  I tensed, waiting for Grant to tell them. But he only said, “I had a question for her…” He saw me, and his voice trailed off. “Never mind.”

  He came over to stand next to the sink.