Tripping (Iced #2) - Kristine Allen Page 0,59

pounding by then.

As I stepped off her patio, the sky opened up. Beside myself, I raised my voice to the pouring rain. “Why, God?”

Then I screamed in frustration. Fuck my life. Drenched to the bone, I ran to my car.

Exhausted beyond belief, I made the drive home.

Another shit day down the tubes.

Thursday

After school, I did something I never did. Feigning illness, I canceled my sessions so I could make it to the wireless store. No way was I not making it again.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but while I can get you set up with a new phone today, I won’t be able to salvage any of your contacts or photos from this phone.” The woman appeared extremely apologetic, but that didn’t help me.

Tears welled, but I blinked them away. No, I hadn’t backed anything up, because I evidently shut off the backup at some point. I don’t know how or when, but I did. I’d never had anything like that happen to my phone in my life.

“Okay, well, I’ll have to deal with it,” I said around the lump in my throat. She finished everything up, and I left with a new phone I couldn’t afford. I’d had to pay for it out of pocket since I also didn’t have insurance on it. Why would I? I’d always seen it as a waste of money because I babied my phones.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know Cameron’s number. The only numbers I knew by heart to add to my new phone were my sister, my brother, my parents, grandparents, and Sergio. I tried calling Sergio.

“Hey gorgeous!” he sang into the phone. I could hear a lot of commotion behind him.

“Where are you?” I asked as I sniffled.

“I’m down in San Antonio. I left yesterday. Don’t you remember? I told you that’s why I couldn’t go to the game Tuesday night. I came down to spend Valentine’s weekend with my Valentine.” I heard murmuring voices and then he came back on the line. “Tony says Happy early Valentine’s Day.”

My lower lip trembled as I threw myself a pity party but tried to keep my tone upbeat. No sense in worrying him about my sanity when he was two hours away. “Well, tell him the same and y’all have fun. Oh! My phone died, and I need Cameron’s number. Do you still have it?”

Sergio snorted. “Is the pope catholic?”

“Could you please send it to me?” Hope started to blossom in my chest.

“Of course, honey. You have a good night! Muah!” We ended the call, and once the text with Cameron’s number came through, I stared at it in trepidation.

He was likely getting ready for his game. It was a bad idea to call before he got on the ice. Hell, he might not be allowed to answer his phone that close to the start of the game.

He might not want to hear from me.

What if he tells me to fuck off?

Tears streamed down my face, and my insanely expensive paper shopping bag hung from my fingertips. I stood in the middle of the parking lot until someone honked at me. Embarrassed, I jumped and moved out of the way.

After I got home, I changed into my pajamas, poured myself a glass of wine, and sat on the couch. As if I hadn’t tormented myself enough, I turned on the game. Drinking in the little flashes of his face, I finished the bottle of wine.

Watching him play on TV after going to live games sucked monkey balls. That was something I never thought I’d be saying. It was the truth though. At the arena, I could follow his gorgeous self for the entire game. On the televised games, I had to suffice with the brief shots of him.

Every up-close snippet they showed, he looked serious or pissed.

Except for when he scored and his face lit with joy. At first, it made my heart flutter—that smile. Then my heart plummeted as I wondered if he was over me already. As I held the couch pillow to my stomach, I fought the nausea that overwhelmed me.

For the rest of the night, I debated calling or texting. Like a dumbass, I’d been drinking again. I was far from drunk, but I didn’t trust myself. Each time I made up my mind to reach out, I talked myself out of it. I might say something that would make things worse.

After making the decision to abstain from any and all alcoholic beverages, I fell asleep on the couch without contacting him.

“Give ‘Em