Thirty-Two
Porter
“You weren’t supposed to be the one coming today,” were the first words out of my big fucking brother’s mouth as I neared him, my gear bag and two sticks in hand.
The only fucking shit I had on me.
I didn’t know if I should be thankful the team sent Jonny to pick me up, or if I should be more pissed that this was a fucking family reunion.
“Where’s Myke?” She should have answers. She was the fucking scout for San Diego, while McKenna played around in Beloit.
“Hiding from you,” Jonny said with a smirk on his face.
It’s not his fault, I tried reminding myself, instead of giving into the need to punch him.
“This is so fucking inconvenient,” I mumbled, shouldering past Jonny and toward the parking garage.
“Trades usually are.” He kept a few feet behind me.
I stopped and turned. “Asher can’t fly. How the fuck is she getting here?” I didn’t know for sure she couldn’t fly, but I wasn’t putting money on it.
“Porter. You weren’t supposed to be here for another week. The other trade is. Everything will get figured out, we’ll get you back to your not-quite-wife, and you can come back.”
“Who else was traded?” Knowing that I would have time helped ease some of the panic, but shit, she was home by herself with the dog and I’m sure she had questions and…Fuck, I needed to get back to her.
“Your buddy, Nico.”
I lifted a brow, but had to take a large step to keep up with my still walking brother. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. And he was supposed to be on the bench tonight. Winksi’s got a bug and said he could play, but I think they wanted him to sit out. You know, in case it was the flu.”
Flu in the locker room was never a good thing.
I sighed. There wasn’t anything I could do about this shit show now. I was in San Diego. Where I didn’t want to be.
For so long, I fought to be a Prescott, away from the Prescott name. I was proud of my family, I wasn’t saying I wasn’t, but when an entire fucking family belonged to one organization, it just didn’t look good.
In my very humble opinion.
“Look, I know this wasn’t in your plan,” Jonny said as we walked down the row of cars before reaching his truck. “Shit, Porter, everyone knows. But I have it on good authority that Caleb is going to announce his retirement, and it’s likely he’ll end up being offered head coach. If the next few months really are hell, I’m sure Ace can work something out. I don’t imagine the trade was for anything other than the remainder of your contract, which was up when? This year?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, opening the truck door.
A few months. I could deal with a few months.
Asher
I knew better than to stay up. Porter wouldn’t get out of the arena until at least nine-thirty California time, and even with a last-minute red-eye, he wasn’t going to land until morning.
He called a a bit earlier ago to tell me he’d be home that night—but I didn’t think he remembered the time difference. I couldn’t even begin thinking about packing though…
So, I didn’t.
We could hire that out.
I searched through the internet for hours, putting in information for quotes, praying that the companies would just email me back instead of calling. I wasn’t in the mood to talk with anyone.
I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep, until Caine nudged my knee with his nose. I was sitting on the couch in a very uncomfortable position and when I stood, the babies kicked their protest.
I let Caine out and looked at my phone, noticing Porter texted me.
My plane doesn’t land until seven. My car is probably somewhere in transit to California by now. You think you can pick me up?
He left the message an hour ago. I sent him a quick reply telling him I would be there, and, after letting Caine back in, headed to bed.
I didn’t want to think about the things we were going to have to leave behind. The people we were leaving behind.
There was so much we had to do.
So much to accomplish.
I fell asleep with it all weighing on my mind, but I knew that if anyone could get through these inconveniences, it was going to be Porter and me.
We had this.
It would be all good…
***
“I requested quotes from a few moving companies,” I said, as Porter pushed the seat back in my Kia. “I don’t want to pack.”
“I’m game with that,” he answered, leaning the seat back. He looked beat.
“Did you not sleep on the plane?” I eased the car out of the pick-up line and headed toward the house.
“I think I napped.” He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “What a fucking shit show.”
“At least you were able to come back.” I tried to find the bright side in all of this. I couldn’t imagine scheduling the packing on my own, and finding a way to San Diego. “I can call my OB and see what she recommends for travel.” I had really connected with my newest doctor and would be sad to leave her.
“We’ll drive.” His voice was getting that far-off, sleepy tone he had sometimes. “First we’re trading in this fucking clown car.”