The Game (That Girl, #2)(39)

Jazzy,

I’m popping in to see if you’re ready to sell. There are several offers on the table. Some of them are unbelievable. You really need to act on this soon. Let me know what you’re thinking.

Joanne



I’m never going to move back there, and I know the right thing is to sell. My Old Man would want me to, even though he loved it as much as he did. He’d want me to get the money and build a new future. I guess I’ve been dragging my feet because I didn’t think I’d ever have a new future. I can’t be a permanent houseguest.

The little kitty catches my attention as it darts across the living room floor, hopping up onto the coffee table. It’s a curious little bugger, I think, as it sits and stares at me. Its little belly is plumb full. I guarantee Lynlee pumped him or her full of something.

Not only can I not be a permanent houseguest, I definitely can’t be the permanent houseguest slash crazy cat lady. It has to be done. My fingers nervously start to type a reply to Joanne, and with each letter I feel more unsure of the decision. It’s the one piece of my childhood and Old Man I have.



Joanne,

Thanks for the email. Yes, I’m ready to sell. I’ll make it back home in the next couple of weeks to take care of business.

Thanks,

Jazzy



I notice the kitty intently watching my fingers as I type, and I know the little bastard is just waiting to attack, clawing them to their death. I laugh at my crazy imagination, but still keep a wary eye on the kitten. My phone chirps again, spooking the kitten away. Damn, Joanne must not have been kidding about being super excited to sell Old Man’s place. Funny how when I was a teen, I was the one eager to sell and get the cash, but now I couldn’t care less. Probably the first sign of becoming a crazy cat lady.

Looking at my phone, I realize it’s not an email from Joanne. It’s a text from an unknown number. Hell, she probably has clients hounding me to get my ass in gear on this transaction.



I suck at goodbyes



Me: Okay, but who is this?



Your lover from the dock.



Those simple five words make me smile like a lunatic, because right away I know who it is.



Me: I think you have the wrong number. I don’t have a lover.



You got a sore *?



Me: Levi!!!



And you said you didn’t know me.



Me: You got me.



See you soon. Take care of our kitty.



“What’s so funny on that phone of yours?” Lynlee asks, sitting down next to me.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” She grabs my phone from my hands. “Those Wilks boys are smooth talkers.”

I fight like hell to rip the phone from her hands before she reads the whole conversation. When I almost have my fingertips on the phone, the damn little kitten jumps up into my lap, causing me to lose all focus.

“Dock, lover, and *. Good lawd, I’d say you didn’t get much fishing done, you skank.”

I bury my face down by the kitty to avoid showing the blush covering my face. As embarrassing as it is to be busted, I find my body is reliving every single moment with Levi. I kiss the top of the kitten’s head, closing my eyes and trying to remember the feel of his lips, touch of his hands, and his smell all over me.

“Look, the kitty does like you, Jazzy. I told you to believe in miracles.”

We both start laughing.





Chapter 10





Jazzy



The last three days have been long and agonizing. I’ve moped around the place while Lynlee’s at school, surfed Pinterest for dinner recipes, walked to the store to buy the groceries, prepped the meals, ignored my emails from Joanne, and stalked my phone for texts from Levi. I’ve even found time to get brave and bond with my kitty. I named him Killer because, well, he’s a killer, and I know one day he will probably claw my jugular open in my sleep.

I might exaggerate a little about Killer when texting Levi. He’s never called me, just quick texts that range from his happy moods to his * persona. I’ve had to warn him a couple times about not using the dick card. He’s even sent pictures of the facility where he’s working on his PT, selfies, and food pics. He keeps begging for pics from me, but I keep dragging it out.

Lincoln’s first home game is ten days away. Lynlee and I have front row seats, of course. She’s told me all about her pre-game ritual with cotton candy and other weird shit. The girl is really obsessed with football and her man. Levi knows we are coming to the game, but hasn’t said if I’ll see him or not. I do know one thing, and that is Levi will not be at the game. I’ve learned Denver and Dallas really aren’t rivals on the field, but this rivalry is between the two brothers.

Lynlee told me tonight was Bitches’ Night Out with Jewels and Jenni. Jewels stayed behind with Ruger while Tiny went off to play. When I tried to figure out why, Lynlee told me it was a complicated situation, so I took that as my signal to quit asking. I really like Jewels and look forward to hanging out with her tonight. Jenni, on the other hand, I may need to take a couple Xanax for.

I’ve been told Bitches’ Night Out is quite the epic evening. Stories of Lynlee coming home with no shoes on, pictures of the gals passed out on the living room floor, and sneaking alcohol into a movie theater are just some of the stories I’ve heard. I decide to text Levi, letting him know I probably won’t be around my phone much tonight. With all the training he’s been doing, he hasn’t been answering my texts right away, but so far he’s answered every single one of them.