“Probably,” I said with a shrug. “Not feeling very super tonight, though. I’ve never had a season start 0–3.”
“It can’t be all your fault.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m the team captain and it’s my job to do something about it.”
I joined her in looking into the darkened distance, a minute of comfortable silence passing between us.
“Luke used to talk about this treehouse he wanted to build,” she said softly. “My brother. When we were kids, he made drawings of a treehouse with all these different rooms and I thought it was the coolest thing. He said I could live there, too, which was a big deal to me. He never left me behind or made fun of me.”
“Are you guys close?” I asked her, trying to signal that I wanted to listen without asking invasive questions.
“Not as close as we used to be. He…he has some health issues. And it’s…” She sighed heavily. “Our mom’s side of the family has a lot of money, and they cut Luke out a few years ago. I can’t say he didn’t deserve it, but he took it hard.”
“I had a teammate on my last team who was self-destructive. I loved him like my own family, but he was his own worst enemy.”
Elle locked her gaze onto mine, nodding. “That’s how Luke is.”
“My teammate’s girlfriend got pregnant. It wasn’t planned, and she ended up leaving him about halfway through the pregnancy because he just wouldn’t get his shit together.”
The corners of Elle’s lips dipped down in a frown. “Or maybe couldn’t? Did you ever wonder if he couldn’t stop being the way he was?”
“In this guy’s case, he could. And he finally did, when he realized he had to choose between drinking and running around with other women and his girlfriend and kid.”
Elle stared down into her wine glass. “I want to think there’s hope for Luke. I sent him some money earlier today and I felt sick about it. Am I really helping him if I’m helping him buy drugs?”
My heart sank. I’d been hoping Elle was exaggerating her brother’s troubles, but it didn’t sound like it.
“It’s hard to say no when you love someone,” I said.
She wiped a tear from her cheek and finished her glass of wine in one drink. “I have dreams about finding him dead from an overdose. That’s dark, but…”
“I’m sorry. No one deserves that.”
“Not even a wicked witch like me?” she joked.
“I don’t think you’re a witch.”
She smiled sadly and picked up her glass, then stood up. “I should get to bed. Thanks for listening, Ford. I mean it.”
I felt it again—an invisible tie connecting us. I wanted to grab onto it and pull her closer to me.
“Anytime.”
She looked like she was going to say something, but instead she walked back to her patio and stopped at the door, turning to look at me.
“Good night. I hope you win your next game.”
I wanted to tell her not to go. To refill her glass and come tell me more about herself. My better judgment won out, though.
“Good night,” I said. “And thanks.”
CHAPTER SIX
Elle
“Next,” Sam said as she broke down the box she’d just unpacked.
“I think that was the last one,” I said, walking out of the small pantry in my kitchen.
“Hell yeah. This calls for a snack break.”
I walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. “I’m one step ahead of you. I made crab Rangoon dip.”
“Ooh, like the inside of crab Rangoon?”
“Yep. And we have wonton chips to dip in it. I just need to warm it up.”
Sam reached into the big tote bag she’d brought over and pulled out a bottle of vodka. “I’m making us some boozy slushies.”
It was early Saturday afternoon, and Sam was helping me get the last of my unpacking done. We were working hard now so we could spend our evening on the couch catching up on shows.
“Is it okay if I turn on Cliterally Speaking?” I asked.
Sam and I had a shared love for the podcast that was recorded here in Denver. We both wanted to be friends with the host.
“Go for it,” she said.
I pulled up the podcast on my phone and started the most recent episode, my Bluetooth speaker connecting to my phone so we could listen at a higher volume.
“Hey guys, it’s Marlowe Hill with Cliterally Speaking. My guest today is Maria Sanchez, a local singer I adore. Seriously, Maria, I was so excited when you responded to my message and said you’d come by.”
Maria laughed. “I’m so happy to be here. When you said you wanted to talk about bad dates, I couldn’t say yes fast enough. I’ve had so many I don’t even know where to start.”
“It’s something all women have in common, isn’t it?” Marlowe said. “We’ve all had those cringeworthy dates and it helps to know we aren’t alone. So let’s dive right in—what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?”
“The worst?” Maria said. “Oh, that’s so hard. There was the date that was so awful it never even happened.”
Marlowe laughed. “Do tell.”
“So I met this guy online and we’d been talking for almost a month. He seemed great. No red flags. He asked if we could meet up for dinner and I said sure. When he asked me to make a reservation somewhere I loved, I threw out the name of my favorite place.”
“Seems non-nightmarish so far.”
“Yeah, so he says he’ll look it up and then he gets back to me and says it’s a no-go because it’s too close to an elementary school and it would violate the conditions of his parole.”
“Shut. Up.”
“Yeah, that happened. I immediately cancelled my membership on that app.”
I sampled the dip and returned it to the microwave for another minute, grabbing a bunch of scallions to wash, chop, and spread on top when it was finished.
“So this isn’t actually a dating story, per se,” Marlowe said. “But it’s too fucking absurd not to share. Last year I had been dating a guy for five weeks and I honestly started thinking he was normal. He had a good job and sent me flowers every week. He watched rom-coms with me anytime I wanted. And then we got intimate, and he told me it would really turn him on if I had conversations with his penis.”
“Wait, what?” Maria asked.
Sam was howling with laughter already.
“He told me his penis’s name was Willie,” Marlowe said. “And he wanted me to get, like face to penis with it and say things like, ‘Oh, Willie, you’re so veiny and hard. You’re such a naughty boy.’”
“Oh no,” Maria said. “Did you do it?”
“I kind of did,” Marlowe said, clearly on the verge of laughing. “But he got pissed when I vented to Willie about my Instacart order getting messed up and asked him if he just wanted to stay limp and chill that night.”
Sam poured ingredients into my blender and pressed a button. I arranged wonton chips on a platter, took the dip out of the microwave and scattered the scallions on it.