Page 201 of Right Man, Right Time
“Don’t let me down.”
“I won’t. I promise. Thank you.”
I hang up and drop my phone to my lap as I press my hands to my eyes and cry.
Ross scoops me up into a hug. “You got it, didn’t you?”
I nod against his shoulder. “I did.” When I pull away, I say, “Looks like I’m moving to Los Angeles.”
Ross’s face falls flat, and his grip loosens. “Wait, you’re moving?”
“Yes, the company is in LA.”
“Yeah, but I thought.” He grips his hair. “I thought you’d work remotely.”
I shake my head. “I can’t stay here, Ross. Firstly, I’m no longer a student and my study permit visa will be terminated.” The joy of being an international student. You only have three months to leave after your studies have finished, or by the date on your study permit, whichever comes first.
Although, of course, it’s more than that. “But also, Silas is plastered everywhere, and when it’s not his face, it’s the Agitators logo. Even if I could stay, it’s just too painful. I have to think of it as another opportunity for a fresh start.”
“Well . . . fuck,” he says softly. “I wasn’t expecting that. I mean, yeah, of course. You’re no longer a student, but fuck.”
“I hate that I’m leaving you though, Ross.” I hate that I’m leaving without a degree...anda broken heart. But it’s life.
“Going to miss you, girl.”
“Going to miss you right back.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
SILAS
“Come out with us, man,” Pacey says as he slips his shirt on.
“I’m good,” I answer.
“That’s not the right answer,” Posey says as he buttons up his shirt. “We just took another win, and we deserve a chance to celebrate your fucking hat trick. Now come on. You’re coming.”
“I don’t need to celebrate.” I slip my shoe on and then the other. “I’m fine just going home.”
“Well, we’re not fine with it,” Hornsby says. “Penny has already told me I can go celebrate because Holden is sleeping, so we’re fucking celebrating.” Hornsby shakes my shoulders. “Three fucking goals, man. That’s something to celebrate.”
Knowing they won’t leave me alone, I succumb to their demands. “Fine.”
Posey fist-pumps the air. “Great, you can ride with me.”
“I can drive myself.”
Posey laughs at that. “As if we would let you just drive, allowing you not to show up. No, dude, you have to be escorted.”
Dammit. They know me too well.
“Fine,” I say as I slip my suit jacket on. “But I’m leaving when I want to fucking leave.”
“You’re required at least thirty minutes,” Pacey says.
“No, two drinks,” Hornsby counters.
“Two big alcoholic drinks,” Posey says.
