Unfinished Ex (Calloway Brothers, #2)(55)

I slide down the door until my ass hits the floor. “You’re right. Since when did the student become the teacher?”

“She’s going to be fine. This is Nicky we’re talking about. She’s the strongest person I know. If you want to worry about someone, worry about the dude who threw himself on her. Now there’s someone I want to meet. I wonder how old he is.”

How she manages to get even a tiny snicker out of me at a time like this is beyond me. “Thanks, Victoria. And call me. I don’t care if I’m still at the game.”

“Will do, Coach. Now go slaughter those Brauns.”

“Bruins,” I correct.

“Whatever.”

I get up, dust my ass off, and storm out to the locker room. I jump up on a bench. “Listen up, guys. The woman I love is literally in the middle of a goddamn hurricane right now with no one to help, no way to contact me, and no way out. So if I can get over my shit and coach you, you can get your own heads out of your asses and win this fucking game. Now are we gonna let those pansy-asses score one more point?”

“No, sir!”

“Are we going to go out there and roll over them like we own the place?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Bring it in!”

They huddle around, and the team captain, Trevor Hornsby, leads a chant and gets them fired up before we go back on the field. On the way, I hand Eric my phone, because Victoria is right, there’s nothing I can do right now but my job. “If Victoria, her dad, or Nic call me, answer it. If it’s bad, tell me. If I don’t hear a word from you about anything other than football, I’ll consider it good news.”

“Got it.”

I coach the rest of the game, but not well. I can’t help looking at Eric the whole goddamn time to see if he’s on my phone. Good thing my guys come through for me. They hold the Bruins the entire second half and get a last-minute touchdown to win the game by four.

The players are celebrating out on the field. I pull Eric aside. “Nothing?”

He hands me my phone. “Voicemail.”

“From her?”

“No. It said unknown number.”

“And you didn’t answer it? What if it’s a hospital or something?”

“You said only to answer if it was Richard, Victoria, or Nicky.”

“Damn it, Eric.” I run, ignoring all the people trying to congratulate me, until I find a quieter place to listen.

When I hear her voice, I collapse onto the pavement, relief rushing through me like oxygen.

“Jaxon, it’s Nicky. I hope you can hear me. The connection isn’t great. I was able to borrow a satellite phone from another crew. I don’t know if you saw the broadcast, but I’m okay. I’m fine. Well, I have a hell of a bump on my head, but it’s nothing.”

As I listen, I realize more and more just how much I love her. I love everything about her. Even her drive to do crazy shit like go onto an island when everyone else is hightailing out of there. How could I have been so stupid, not fully supporting her career aspirations? I was selfish. A goddamn bastard. She’s amazing. Always has been. So full of life, especially when she’s clearly doing what she loves.

“Oh my god, Jaxon, I was on NBC! This is the most fun. It’s like a dream come true.” Laughter dances through the phone. “Does that make me crazy? Anyway, I have to let these other guys call home. And then we have to prepare for the second half of Louisa to come through.” My heart stops beating. She’s calling me from the eye of the storm. “I hope you won or are winning. I’ll be in touch later when we have service. Bye.”

Someone tries to talk to me. I wave them away with a sharp flick of my arm and pull up my weather app. Holy mother of God. The second eye wall is pounding the Outer Banks. And Louisa is now a category one hurricane. My stomach heaves, but I haven’t eaten, so there’s nothing to throw up.

I don’t go back to the locker room. I don’t even go to my car—the traffic to leave the game is already bumper-to-bumper. So I run. I run all the way home and sit in front of the TV, phone in hand, hoping for something. Anything.

Everyone in my family has called, texted, and offered to come over. But I want to be alone. I haven’t seen her. But she’s all over TV. Every station is playing endless reels of her and the guy, Jessie, who jumped on her getting hit by what they say was the hard plastic top of a dumpster. And while they are reporting that both survived with minor injuries, she hasn’t been back on the air.

Because the storm is pounding her.

What if her ‘minor’ injuries are more than minor? What if the bump on her head results in bleeding in her brain? There would be no way to get help. She could die.

I pace around the room, thinking about my dead brother. Then I think about the men with Nicky— are they helpless, watching her die like Cooper had to watch Chaz? Losing him was unimaginable.

And Nicky was there to support me through it. I’m not sure I’d have survived if she wasn’t. Would I survive this? Losing her? I know to the core of my soul that I wouldn’t. Together or not, she’s always been my other half. And I promise myself if she makes it through this I’ll fight for her come hell or high water.

Then she’s there. On my television. Live. Thank fucking god. I collapse onto the couch and turn up the volume.