Wild for You (Hot Jocks #6)(32)

Grant’s out of town, at another away game, and I might be sulking.

He’s been a complete ghost since we slept together. It’s like we’re back to square one. Not conversationally, though. He’s not withholding or being short with me. It’s more of a physical distance.

He touched my shoulder last night, and I felt that same lightning shudder through my whole body again. But before I could blink, he disappeared. All I want is to talk to him about what happened between us, but I can tell he isn’t ready to. That’s what I get for crossing a boundary, I guess.

I tug at the sweater, willing it to fit me differently. When my phone buzzes, I open my messages distractedly. The name on my screen is like a swift kick to the gut.

Jason.

My ex hasn’t texted me in days, so I thought he was finally letting go. He’s being forced to move to Wisconsin, thousands of miles away. A huge demotion, to be sure, but at least he’s still playing hockey.

Memories of Jason—the good ones—live in a dusty, sealed box, tucked away deep in the recesses of my heart. I haven’t dared open that box since the first time he shoved me against a wall. But now that I have the assurance of thousands of miles between us, it feels safer to revisit them.

With a deep, steadying breath, I open the message.

Hey. I packed your things in boxes. Georgia is coming to get them for you today. I’m moving to Wisconsin, so I ended the lease early. Let me know if the landlord harasses you. Bye, Ana.

My heart seizes, and I steady myself against the dresser. With numb fingers, I call Georgia.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Georgie.”

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

“You going to my old apartment today?”

There’s only a hint of a pause before she speaks again, her voice clear and cheerful. “Yep! Want me to steal anything?”

I smile, relieved as feeling returns to my fingers and legs. I’m so lucky to have this beautiful, thoughtful person in my life. “Nothing specific. Should I come with you?”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ve got it covered. Well, me and Bertha.” Bertha is what she calls her trusty Jeep Wrangler.

“But like, should I come?” I chew on my thumbnail, not even sure what I want her answer to be.

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know.” I hesitate, considering her question.

“It might give you some closure.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Well, if you want to come, I was going to head over in about, uh, forty-five minutes? I could swing by wherever you are right now.”

“Could you pick me up on the corner of 32nd and Harrison?”

“Whoa, ritzy neighborhood. That’s where you’ve been staying?”

All Georgia knows is that I’m staying with another friend, and she’s been an angel for not asking for more details. We both know that Jason would corner her if he suspected she knew anything.

“Yeah. Nice, right?” I chuckle. “I’ll be ready. Can’t have you moving all my crap by yourself.”

“Okay, I won’t stand in the way of your journey of healing,” Georgia says, only half ironically. “But if you want to back out, even at the last second, I’ve got you. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” I murmur, relaxing with a warm sigh. “I owe you a killer massage.”

“You really do!” Georgia laughs, and I join her. We both know we’ll never go through with it. “I’ll let you go. See you soon!”

“’Bye, Georgie.”

“’Bye, babe.”

About five minutes early, I’m standing on the corner. The wind cuts through me, even on this temperate day, and I rub my hands together for a little extra warmth.

It seems weird, going empty-handed into a trade-off like this. I didn’t take anything of Jason’s with me when I left the apartment, not even anything he gave me. The teddy bear he got for me on our first date has a special place on the media shelf, next to my collection of rom-coms and Jason’s video games. The necklace he gave me for my birthday last year hangs from the jewelry stand in the bathroom, only worn on special occasions. I have no idea what I’ll do with them. Part of me hopes he just threw them out.

Soon, a gray Jeep is pulling in front of me and Georgia is rolling down her window.

“Get in, loser! We’re going soul-cleansing,” Georgia calls from the driver’s seat.

I can’t help but snicker at the reference to one of our shared favorite movies. Leave it to Georgia to make me laugh on a day like this.

“Love the outfit,” she says. “It’s very ‘look how well I’m doing without you.’ I dig it.”

“Really?” I scoff, pulling my seat belt over my coat and chunky sweater. “I’m just excited to get my wardrobe back.”

“Yeah.” Georgia sighs, putting the car in drive. “Do you want to say anything to him when you see him?”

I think about this for a moment. Is there anything I haven’t already said to him?

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to anticipate what he’ll say to me.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to even guess. Do you think he’ll beg for you back?”