my apartment, prepared for the worst. My gut had been twisting and turning all night until I'd finally convinced myself Morgan would be gone by the time I got home. That would be the perfect ending to a completely shitty weekend.
We'd lost to Bridgeport Saturday night, letting them hand our asses to us in a five-to-zip loss. Yeah, I said let because even I had to admit we didn't do a good job of holding them off. It wasn't even a mediocre job.
Hell, it was as if we hadn't even shown up to the game, something Coach had hammered home pretty much non-stop. You'd think after all the lecturing, we would have at least had a stronger showing this afternoon in Providence.
Yeah, you'd think. Too damn bad it hadn't happened that way. We hadn't lost quite as bad—four-to-one, so at least we put something on the board—but it was still a loss.
We were officially in last place.
Again.
So yeah, I fully expected to walk into my apartment and find Morgan gone. It shouldn't bother me as much as it did but the fact of the matter was, it did. There was nothing I could do to change the way I felt and I wouldn't bother to try, not here in my own place with nobody around to see.
Or give me shit.
Yeah, it sucked. No, I didn't know why. To be honest, I didn't really care enough to look too deeply into the reasons. I liked Morgan. We'd been having fun. Did I need more reason than that?
I didn't care if it didn't make sense and I sure as hell didn't need to explain myself to anyone. I'd give myself twenty-four hours to wallow in pity—damn good thing tomorrow was an off-day for us—and that would be it. By the time practice rolled around on Tuesday, I'd be back to my normal self.
At least, as far as everyone else was concerned.
I didn't bother with the lights when I walked in. It had only been a little more than four months but I already knew the place like the back of my hand. Not like it was some sprawling dwelling with lots of twists and turns and alcoves. As long as I didn't misjudge the first step leading to the main living area, I'd be fine.
I dropped my bag next to the door, tossed my keys on the counter island, then made my way to the refrigerator. My hand had just closed around a bottle of beer when I noticed something off about the magnetic notepad I kept on the door. It wasn't in its usual spot.
I twisted the cap from the bottle, took a long swig of cold beer, then reached for the notepad. A sense of doom curdled my stomach and I wondered why I was even bothering. Without even reading it, I knew exactly what it was: a goodbye note.
That didn't stop me from grabbing it. I leaned forward, using the light from the open refrigerator to read it.
Thanks for everything. I'll never forget my time here in New Orleans. Underneath, in scrawling letters that were surprisingly feminine, was her name: Morgan.
Great. Just fucking great. She'd made it sound like she'd been renting space at my place for the last week and that I had been nothing more than a tour guide during her stay. And how fucking funny was that? I hadn't taken her anywhere, not unless you counted that small bar and restaurant where a few of us had started to hang out, and that had only been two times. The only other place I'd shown her was my bed.
Somehow, I didn't think that counted, no matter how much fun we'd both had.
I drained the beer in several long swallows then tossed the bottle into the sink, not caring about the loud crash it made. I studied the note again then slammed the refrigerator door shut with a loud oath, plunging the room into darkness. Maybe I should burn the damn note instead of throwing it away. Get rid of it permanently so there'd be no trace left of Morgan.
Yeah, I should.
Tomorrow.
I slammed the pad back on the refrigerator door without tearing off the top sheet then stomped up the steps, shedding my jacket and tie as I went. They landed on the floor and I was content to let them stay there until morning. Hell, maybe I'd leave them there permanently, as a sign of my sheer stupidity. A reminder of how stupid I'd been.
"Fuck!" I whirled