"Yes I'm serious, so go change out of that damn jersey and put on something nice," he says with a frown at Jake's number. "This is a great opportunity and you need to make a good impression."
Without another word I slip into my room, quickly drying my hair and putting on a pair of black dress pants with a dressy black and white blouse and heels. After one last double check in the mirror I head down to meet with my dad and the owner of a freaking NFL team. We had flown to town yesterday on his private jet, but thankfully he had been busy talking with his other guests. The white haired, high powered man makes me nervous.
"Ah, here she is," my dad says to Jerry Tucker who's sitting next to him at the formal dining table.
"Mr. Tucker, how are you?" I ask with my most professional smile in place and an offer of my hand for him to shake.
Inside my guts are all twisted up. During our conversation of how professional athletes deal with the same, if not more severe mental health issues as regular people, I try to stop my mind from wandering. To prevent those constant replays from the night before. Jake had been different. Vulnerable even. That was the real him, right? Until this morning when he went back to his usual jackass self.
"Addison," my father says, snapping my attention back to the table.
"Yes?" I ask while sipping on my orange juice to cover for zoning out.
"Jerry said he thought you would’ve flown back with the team."
"Oh, sorry," I apologize. "I am going to fly back with the team."
Jerry glances down at the expensive platinum watch on his wrist. "Unless I'm mistaken, they should be ready for takeoff any minute now."
"What!?!" I exclaim, jumping up from my chair.
"Their flight is leaving at eleven."
"Shi-oot!" I pull my key card from my pocket and toss it on the table. "Dad, I'm sorry, but will you please grab my things and please check us both out?"
"Where are you going?" my dad asks in surprise.
"I told Jake I'd fly back with him," I explain and ignore his narrowed eyes and frown. "I’m so sorry, Mr. Tucker, but I have to try to catch their flight."
"Sure," he says with a smile. "Nice talking with you, Dr. James."
I shake his hand again before speed walking across the restaurant and out the front door. Thankfully there are cabs lined up at the entrance so I grab the first one, telling the driver I need him to get me to the airport as soon as possible. I have to make it in time. I told Jake I would and last night he had been so distraught. Flights are always delayed, so it's just a matter of getting a ticket with the team. Easy. I already had my ID and debit card in my pocket thankfully since I hate carrying a purse around unless I’m in a dress. Of course it takes me forever to get through the line at the ticket counter, and when I do, they tell me I'm too late. Their plane left on time.
Chapter Fourteen
Jake
After the two hour flight home I'm two sheets to the wind. All the alcohol in the world can't stop the gnawing worry in my chest, or the image of two bloody, shredded jerseys. My jerseys, the ones the paramedics cut off my parents when they tried to revive them.
Of course I know better than to drive, so I take a cab home and pass out with my face buried in the sofa cushion. A nightmare of Addy on a crashing, burning plane startles me awake. Raising my head I blink bleary eyes at the clock on the wall seeing that it's almost seven o'clock at night. She should've been home by now dammit! Not that she'd necessary come here, but she could've at least called to let me know she's back in town. She would already be here safe and sound with me right this second if she hadn't ditched me this morning.
I drag my staggering body over to the kitchen and am digging in the liquor cabinet when I hear the front door open. My first instinct is to go grab her and squeeze her to death while yelling at her. That probably won't go over well so I stay where I am.
"Hey," she says from the doorway, sounding out of breath. My back is still to her, my palms braced on the kitchen counter. I'm trying to do some deep breathing exercises to slow my racing heart now that I know she's okay. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what time the flight was-"
"You would have if you had stayed instead of running out of my room," I interrupt.
"I know, Jake, that's why I apologized," she replies softly. I'd rather she yell at me then be all sweet and shit. How the hell do I respond when she's being nice? "My dad and I were meeting with Jerry when he said the team had already left."
Great, and I'm sure Satan spent the whole goddamn day telling her she deserves better than me. I hate him even more because he's right. Might as well get this over with.