When the clock on my laptop ticked over to ten, he still hadn’t called. After that, I didn’t bother trying to concentrate anymore.
Well, shit.
Sighing, I put my laptop aside as I let the disappointment sink in. I’d been stood up enough times to know when I was being stood up. And now I felt stupid for thinking Devin had actually wanted to put the effort into whatever this was. I was exhausting. According to my ex-girlfriends, dating me was even more exhausting. He’d probably read between the lines, caught on that he’d bitten off more than he wanted to chew, and was ghosting me before he found out what a real headache this could be.
Or maybe he just wasn’t interested after all.
Damn. Maybe I’d read more into this than I’d thought.
I scrolled through the texts we’d been exchanging over the last twenty-four hours or so. Had I said something stupid? Something off-putting? Did I read something wrong and respond in a way that would piss him off or, I don’t know, freak him out? Tip him off to what he’d be getting into if he hitched his wagon to me? Was it the text about whether we were still on? Should I have just sat tight and waited for him to ping me? Damn it, where was the manual or the fucking YouTube tutorial for this shit? Was I the only one who was this clueless?
I should give up on dating for a while. Focus on hockey. Don’t get distracted by—
My phone vibrated, startling me so bad I almost shouted, and I fumbled with my phone enough that I damn near knocked over a lamp trying to recover.
Just seeing Devin’s name on the screen sent my heart into overdrive, and then I read his text:
OMG so sorry. Dallas went down with a bad migraine. Call tomorrow?
Oh. Oh. Wow, talk about a cascade of mixed feelings. I knew Dallas got migraines, but I’d been so wound up over Devin not calling—so convinced he was ghosting me instead of considering for two seconds that something might have come up—that I hadn’t made the connection. Now I felt like an utter dick for thinking he’d blown me off, and I was also relieved as hell that he hadn’t blown me off, and I felt like even more of a dick for being relieved on any level because, hello, his poor kid had probably been miserable all night. He’d probably been miserable too. What kind of asshole was I to think that was better than Devin just not calling me? I mean, I didn’t, but it felt like… Fuck. I was overthinking this, wasn’t I?
I also hadn’t responded yet.
Sure, sounds good. I’ll be around tomorrow. Hope Dallas is feeling better.
He quickly replied, Great. :) Looking forward to it. She’s much better. She’s asleep now, and I should get some sleep too.
Same. Text me when you want to get on FT tomorrow.
Will do. Have a good night.
You too.
And although I was excited as hell to talk to him, and still more than a little nervous about everything because that was how I rolled, relief was the strongest feeling tonight. I’d been wrong. I’ve overthought the situation, jumped on the worst-case scenario, and then it had turned out Devin was still onboard after all.
Excitement couldn’t keep me awake.
Nerves didn’t keep me tossing and turning.
Relief knocked me on my ass, and I slept harder than I had in ages.
Chapter 10
Devin
Dallas was still asleep. Last night had been awful, and she’d been racked out all afternoon and probably would be for a few more hours yet. Her school and my office had already bitched me out, but what was I going to do? Send her to school after she’d been up all night in blinding pain? Leave her here by herself so I could go to work, all the while crossing my fingers that she didn’t start getting sick and need a trip to the emergency room?
Everyone was just going to have to deal with it until we found a solution to Dallas’s migraines.
For the moment, she was sleeping off the hangover, and in between quietly checking on her every hour or so, I tried to get some work done from home.
As I left her bedroom for the third time this afternoon, I stifled a yawn. I desperately needed some coffee, but I didn’t dare brew any because the smell would make Dallas sick. Instead, I pulled a Frappuccino out of the fridge;