Page 132 of The Catch

Ames: I'm trapped half an hour away by car. Twenty fucking miles. I can't walk that in time, but I'm about to try. Better than traffic that doesn't move

Pen: Park the car somewhere. Try transit

Ames: I'm doing it.

The map shows I'm close to a highway exit. Some time later, I drive out to a busy, but moving road. I follow GPS directions to a transit stop.

It takes me nearly two hours to get to the stadium. I'm running. My heart hammers against my breastbone. Blood rushes in my ears, and my thoughts are a little cloudy with anxiety, but I make it to the right door. As per Evie's instructions, I show my phone to a guard. He lets me in.

Bass fills the air. They carry tremors I can only feel in my chest. A roar builds around me, heavy with anticipation. I'm trying to follow the map Evie shared of the stadium but it's not accurate— or I'm too overwhelmed to follow directions.

I get the notification as I'm typing a text.

The Strike wins.

The whole building trembles. Sound travels through metal backbones and concrete pillars. In my dazed state, I wonder if this is being registered as a small earthquake somewhere.

I choke up and die a little inside, because I missed it. Stress wants to escape through a scream and I can't let it. All I would manage is to beg someone to give me more time, but I've run out. People appear from every corner, flooding the small corridors in this section of the building.

My phone shoots several texts at me in quick succession.

Nat: Where are you?!

Evie: We're going to the field! Come find us. Do you want us to tell Saint?

Pen: If you don't make it on time, Bear and I will kidnap Saint to wait for you

I could cry, but it won't do me any good. I need to find my way to Saint and my friends.

Ames: I'm trying to get to the field

The map still makes no sense to me, but I try to follow it. Changes must have been made, but I can't keep track when hundreds of people keep going in different directions. Guards direct the chaos, and I'm forced to move with a specific group toward a large concrete arch.

Sunlight and flashing lights mix as I reach the sitting area. I'm in the lowest level, the one closest to the field… but not on the field.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I elbow my way to the fence. A different hundred people fill the field. Blue and silver explode from the sky. Cameras mill about, catching on all the happy faces and hugs and excited voices. Those around me on the grandstand cheer and jump and laugh, joining in the fun from our place away from the team and their people.

I don't let it deter me. Amir is one of my new clients and a defensive player, and he's close enough I might get his attention. He's hugging people, screaming, excited, and giving me his profile.

"Amir!" I yell. "Hey! Amir! Please!"

Admins and coaches nearby ignore me when I switch to calling on them.

"Hey! I need to go to Saint! Please!" Not having a response, I switch to my client again. "Amir! It's me! Amelia! Your private chef is here! Fuck’s sake."

I'm not loud enough in the resounding echoes of the stadium. Confetti continues to rain on everyone. Coach Clark gets the sports drink spilled over him. No one could care about an extra voice calling for them from the bleachers.

Crumbling is a real option, but I don't let myself. Gratefulness washes over me, when it means I catch sight of Dom running across.

"Dom!" My voice is turning raspy from screaming, but I force it out as loud as I can. "You have to hear me! Dom! It's Ames!"

His head snaps my way. "Ames?"

Relief bursts deep in my stomach. I can barely hear my name out of his mouth, but he's staring firmly at me.

"Saint!" I call. "I want to get to Saint!"