4. Cat

4

CAT

I walked over to the girls on my couch, clicking my tongue as I considered what to say to them.

Before I could get any words out, the blonde lifted her drooping eyes to mine. "Cat, can we go out?"

That's typical .

I smiled at her, watching as she eagerly waited for me to suggest some incredible bar that would be open this early. "I was actually thinking about hitting the gym."

"Ew." The brunette next to her laughed.

Even from across the coffee table, I could smell the alcohol from our late-night partying. My mouth salivated at the thought. It would be so easy to fall right back in, to let the liquor wash over my tongue and feel the waves of alcohol make my memory fade.

"We should go out instead." The blonde, whose name must have been Ashley, bit her lip.

Clenching my jaw, I shook my head. "I really shouldn't."

The pair rolled their eyes in sync, like a pair of groupie robots designed to make my career fall further apart than it already had.

Attempting to hold strong, I walked toward the front door. "Thanks for the fun night… or week, I guess. But I really need to get back on track." The cold, metal door handle sent a jolt through my skin as I pulled it open for the two women.

They looked between each other and the apartment building hallway for a long moment before letting out a massive collective sigh and peeling themselves off my couch.

The brunette slunk toward the elevator, clicking the down button, as the blonde stopped in front of me. She placed her hand on my shoulder, leaning into my ear with a low whisper. "Give me a call when you decide to have a good time."

Swallowing hard, I nodded and gestured toward the door. "Will do."

As soon as she crossed the apartment's threshold, I swung the door closed. I couldn't risk another second around those two. They were stunning, funny, and a good time. If I wanted to get back to my career, I couldn't be distracted… not my anything.

Leaning against the door, I pulled open my phone to a new text. It was from my friend Billie:

Heard about a new spot to try tonight. You game? I can be at your place in twenty.

Jesus. I shook my head. Everywhere I looked, temptation awaited.

Peeling myself off the door, I strode across the room. "I've gotta get the fuck out of this city."

Instead of responding to Billie, I pulled open a text thread that had gone cold. The last text was sent a few months ago, a brief birthday message I'd shot out just before midnight in the hopes that my younger brother wouldn't notice how close to missing it I was.

He was in my phone as Daniel the Maniel. Refusing to be called Dan since we were kids, he had denied me the ability to call him "Dan the man." So, this was my big-sister-compromise.

My chest tightened as my finger hovered over the keyboard.

Shaking off my anxiety, I closed my phone and strode across my luxury apartment to my bedroom. There, I grabbed a duffel bag from my closet and started to fill it with clothes. Only when it was nearly full did I reach for my softball clothes. I tossed in my worn-out cleats, a couple of sports bras, and my old high school jersey. Delicately, I placed my leather glove in a nook near the edge of the bag.

Once it was full to the brim, I zipped the duffel bag closed and slung the black strap over my shoulder.

I walked to the front door, scanning the apartment for anything I may have missed. But there wasn't anything I would need more urgently than I needed to get out of this city.

So I grabbed my keys and opened the door, heading for the elevator bank that my two groupies had taken downstairs just a few minutes ago. Hopefully, they wouldn't be lingering around the lobby. But even if they were, I was heading straight down to the parking garage.

The elevator dinged when it arrived on my floor. The heavy metal doors swung open for me, an empty cabin waiting. Stepping inside, I pushed the button for the garage and tried to take a deep breath.

The doors thunked closed, locking me away, as the elevator dropped down toward the basement level. I was downstairs just as the anxiety of what I was about to do sunk in.

When the doors opened to the chilly, underground garage, I let out the breath I'd been holding in and stepped onto the asphalt.

I dug into my jeans pockets, the denim lightly scraping against my hand as I fished out my car key. Clicking the unlock button, my black Mercedes Benz flashed its headlight from a few feet away.

I flung open the sports car's trunk and tossed it in my duffel bag. The slam of the trunk sent a shiver through me.

What the fuck am I doing? A lump grew in my throat as I walked around to the driver's side door.

My body thudded into the black leather seats, the smell of a new car rushing into my nose. I bought the car after my injury. But living in the city and drinking the way I had been, I hadn't used it much at all – just over three hundred miles on the odometer.

Gritting my teeth together, I opened my phone and pushed the car's ignition button.

The text chain with Daniel stared back at me.

I let my fingers type, no longer stopping the words from flowing from my brain to the screen. The text read:

Hey bro. Can I come stay with you? Need to get out of my routine.

I wished I could say more. But everything else that needed to be said would sound better in person.

After a moment of contemplation, I let my finger fall onto the send arrow.

With an anticlimactic whoosh , the text sent.

I let the air slowly release from my lungs, a gust of air slipping out from between my lips. New Winford was the only safe place for me… even if it meant running into my ex.