Page 3 of The Catch

I tap at my boxers like they've suddenly grown pockets and my phone hides in one of them.

"I just need to call them— never mind." I shake my head. "Areyou okay?"

"No, Saint. I should be apologizing. I know it's a big season for you guys. Everything's gone wrong today. I can't be responsible for getting you in trouble, too."

"Ames. I can't leave you like this."

"Please. Go. Don't worry about me." She lifts her hands like there's nothing to worry about.Nothing to see here, they tell me. "I shouldn't have shown up like this, only that I don't think my friend Jo can't take me in and I just… I'm crashing hard. I need a nap. Can we talk later?"

I hesitate.

"Please," she says. "I'll be fine. I don't mean to get in the way of your life."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to call…"

I don't know what stops me. Maybe it's the way her brow pulls up at the center, like there's a pain she can't face yet, but I don't mention Aidan, her long-term boyfriend.

"... Someone?" I finally say.

Tears fill her eyes, but she squeezes them shut and wipes the one tear that falls with force. Anger cloaks anything else she might be feeling.

It stabs me. Right in the breastbone.

She shakes her head again. "A nap will help."

My heart aches for her already. Not with the angst of my old unreciprocated feelings, but out of worry for whatever happened to her.

"Are you okay?" I ask again. "Will you be okay? Who’s ass do I need to kick? I'll sic the whole team on them."

She snorts. "Aidan."

She only needs to say the name for my whole system to match her anger. That knife in my breastbone— it twists.

My watch vibrates again.

"Shit," I mutter and I stop the alarm.

"Go," she insists. "I'll be okay."

"Nope. Can I get you water, maybe?"

"No, please. Really. You can go."

"You can sleep. I will stay right outside…" I make a vague gesture behind me toward the living room.

"I won't be able to sleep if you're out there. I know you're supposed to be in training. Don't let me get you in trouble."

I suck my bottom lip and search her eyes for a couple of beats.

I sigh. "Fine, but I'll call you later. I'll check in on you after work. You can—"

Who did I know that wouldn't be busy with training?

Evie. She is a Senior PR exec for the team, our quarterback's girlfriend, and a personal friend. As far as I know, Evie and Ames have mostly interacted professionally, and only occasionally met in social situations, but I know Evie will help.

"I'll give you Evie's number in case you need anything," I add.

"Thank you, Saint. It means so much to me."