heading back to the airport.
I wore my headphones and cranked pure static—just mindless white noise. It usually silenced everyone and everything and let me exist without that constant emotional bombardment.
Not today.
Every bump in the road, every profanity, every moment of sullen silence from the team was a frustration that suffocated me in blinding anger. I listened to the radio instead, hoping for something that would distract me.
Instead, Ainsley Ruport sang on Sports Nation Radio like the puffed, little canary he was. The turn of events tonight thrilled him, as if a blown call was all the evidence he needed to urge the league for my expulsion.
“Hawthorne consistently displays terrible judgment. This isn’t his first unnecessary roughness call, and it won’t be his last.” Ainsley’s chortled voice disgusted me, thick with the saliva of a man too fat and excited to bother swallowing. “The league had better deal with his behavior soon, and the Monarchs need to find a solid replacement. Too many games are decided by Hawthorne’s temper—”
I didn’t realize how hard I gripped my phone. The case splintered from the screen and the sound cut out. Broken.
Fuck me.
It took two hours to get to the airport and on the plane, and another two and a half hours in flight before we made it home. It should have been enough time to ease my spiking blood pressure. Instead, I ached more than ever.
I wished for a shot of whiskey, something to eat, and some sleep. Not that it’d be restful. My body hurt too much from the game, and I couldn’t focus on anything but the few mistakes I made on the field. It’d be a rough night.
Especially since this time…I wasn’t returning to an empty mansion.
Inviting Piper to stay with me was a fucking stupid idea, but it was my fault she got fired. I didn’t do apologies—I took action. I promised her I’d fix it, and I did. New job. New home. The movers sent most of her shit over, but she waited for the baby-proofing before moving in. I left her to deal with it. She texted me Saturday night and said it was done.
And she included a winky-face emoji.
I had no fucking clue what that meant, but I probably should have slept in the car, especially after the rotten fucking game poisoned my mind.
I headed into the house. Made it five steps before I collided with a thigh-high gate. It gave before I did and crashed to the ground, but I was tangled in the wood frame and plastic mesh. I stumbled, striking the floor and accidentally jamming the gate into every sore spot on my body.
“What the fuck?”
I tossed the reinforced plastic fence away from me, swearing again as it pinched my finger just above the nail. Nothing like a jarring slam onto hardwood to wake a motherfucker up.
I had collided with a baby gate. That made sense. But how the hell was I supposed to put it back?
I set it against the stairwell. The damn thing was spring loaded or something—too loose to fit into the stairs when I squeezed it, too big to fit into place. I considered ignoring it, but the last thing I wanted was the kid to use it as a toboggan into the garage.
“How the hell…”
I flipped on the light. Was it upside down? Jesus Christ, I was too exhausted to figure it out.
Fuck it.
I slammed the gate into the hallway, gouging a deep scratch into my drywall. The crash echoed through the house, and the plastic groaned, but it locked in place. Nothing would remove it from the goddamned hallway. I ignored the four-inch gap over the floor. The gate was about to pop, and I wasn’t fiddling with it anymore. Unless Piper’s baby was part octopus, she wasn’t squeezing through the hole.
I tripped over a second gate by the entry to the kitchen. Christ, were we keeping Rose in or a goddamned velociraptor out?
This gate stayed upright. I dropped my duffle bag by the kitchen island and headed for the fridge. I needed a stronger drink than what I kept up here, but my legs ached too much from the game and Piper’s Alcatraz set-up to get to the bar in the basement.
I tugged on the fridge’s door.
Nothing. The door stuck.
I yanked again.
The door didn’t move but the entire fucking refrigerator shimmied, teetered, and nearly rocked over on me. I shouted and braced myself, catching the fridge before it tipped. I slammed it back in place as