14. Weston

I can’t get her out of my head.

Seeing her at the gala was as bad the second time as it was the first. There’s no light left in her eyes, and as much as I want to believe that it’s the Carrington bastard’s fault for snuffing it out, I know I’m the one who’s truly responsible.

I’ve decided to take up running again to combat the squawking demons taking over my stream of consciousness. This morning, I’m up and ready to roll by six. I only need a bottle of water and then I’ll be out of here.

When I walk out of the bedroom, Hunter is standing at the counter. He looks up at me when I enter. “Hey.”

“Hey. You look like shit.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

“Just saying.” I shrug. “Where you been?”

“Work. I just got staffed on a big deal and it’s kicking my ass.” He shakes his head and dries his hands on a wad of paper towels.

“You know, if you need some time, or you just need… anything… you could take some time off. I’ll cover your bills, obviously.” He would never ask, but he needs to know the offer is here.

“I’m fine, West.”

“I know. I just want you to be okay.”

He nods and walks past me, giving my shoulder a solid shake on the way. “I’m fine. Promise.”

“Fair enough.” I grit my teeth. “You working today? I got practice now, but we could?—”

“Nah. I’m taking off. Got some errands to run later, though.” He walks past me to the guest room and pulls the door closed behind him.

Guess that’s the end of that conversation.

When he’s gone, I head out to run. It’s good to just put one foot in front of the other for a while. Life is simpler when that’s the only thing to think about.

Left, right, left, right.

Repeat ad nauseam.

But today, it’s hard to avoid thoughts of Renee. I’m intent on focusing on solutions, though. Not rehashing the moments I wish had never happened.

And right as I’m finishing up a hard five miles, an idea pops in my head.

I know how to fix this shit.

When I get back to my car, I pull out my phone and dial. “Hey, Chief. It’s Weston Scott. I have a couple tickets with your name on them.”

“Hey, West. Good to hear from you. And you know how I love tickets.”

“You want a box upstairs or you want center ice?”

“Must be some favor you’re calling for, eh? Well, I’d say sky box sounds good.”

“Alright then. I can make that happen. Now, about that favor…” I lay it all out there and he tells me it shouldn’t be a problem.

I hang up feeling good.

I can fix this.