The Endgame (Atlanta Lightning 1)

Everything sounded slightly echoey in my head—my brother, the party, people talking. I tried to play it off, tried to pretend I wasn’t freaking out because my brother had seen West and…fuck, at the same time feeling all mushy inside, like a goddamned marshmallow man. West had come to the game to see me, and he hadn’t told me. He’d stayed at our hotel, and I’d been too busy to know.

I cleared my throat. “Wow…that is nuts, but you’re still a politics nerd.”

“I said junkie,” Elias countered.

I tried to take a drink of my beer, put the bottle to my lips and tilted it back before remembering it was empty. “Did you, um…say anything to him?”

“Yeah, I asked him if he was from California, and told him I was your brother. He said he was a fan, then mentioned something about changing his flight and having a last-minute plane to catch.”

I knew without having to talk to West that he’d come to see me, that he’d changed his flight because I’d been out celebrating—as I should have been; there was nothing wrong with that. I knew he understood, but a sudden sadness made me feel weighed down. I felt like I’d abandoned him. He’d done something sweet for me, and I’d let him down.

“That’s, um, that’s pretty neat,” I finally managed to say. “He obviously has good taste.”

“I think you misunderstood him. He was wearing your jersey, not mine,” Darren teased, making everyone laugh. I laughed too, but I didn’t feel it at all. The subject was officially changed after that. I chatted with the group a while longer, then said I was going to get another beer.

I sneaked into the bathroom, pulled out my phone, and texted.

Me: Hey.

Stalker: Hey.

Me: What are you up to?

You came…you came to watch me play, and I didn’t even know.

Stalker: Not much. I just got back to San Francisco. Luckily, I don’t have to be in Washington next week. There’s a lot of shit going on here, though. How’s your party?

Me: It’s good. I was just thinking about you.

Because you came and didn’t tell me so I wouldn’t feel bad. You came because you wanted to see me.

Stalker: Naturally. I’m a pretty big deal.

I laughed. God, I loved him, and I had no idea what in the hell to do about it.

I had no idea what I was doing. I just knew that after I’d stopped texting with West, I couldn’t get him out of my head. I’d stayed at the party, talking and laughing when I should, but every part of me that mattered, every part that was real, had been with him. So why not the rest of me too?

I went home after the party, packed a bag, booked a flight, showered, and headed to the airport. When I landed in San Francisco, I rented a car, and now I was sitting in said vehicle, parked in front of West’s driveway because there wasn’t any street parking.

I’d flown across the country, and now I was going to show up at his house at just a little after six in the morning?

What if he wasn’t alone? Christ, what if he had a guy there with him? I would lose my shit. Not that I had any claim on West. We’d said we wanted each other and would talk after the Super Bowl, but I didn’t know if that meant we’d be with each other exclusively.

Me: Are you awake?

Because why wouldn’t he be up at dawn on his day off?

Stalker: Yeah. I get up early most of the time. Just got out of the shower. What’s up?

I’m here. You came to Dallas, and I just found out, and now I’m here to see you, but I don’t know what that means for us.

That wasn’t what I said.

Me: Are you alone?

Stalker: Yes. You wanna video chat?

Me: No…I’m here.

My phone rang almost instantly. “What the fuck? You’re here? You should have told me last night. Do I need to come and get you from the airport?”

“No, I got a car. I’m sitting in your driveway right now. I’d be surprised if someone hasn’t called the cops on me.”

“Jesus, Anson. I’ll open the garage. You can pull in.”

“Yeah, okay.”

I backed up just as the garage opened, and then he closed it right after I parked inside.

West was standing in the doorway, his hair wet, wearing low-slung sweats and nothing else. My legs shook as I got out of the car. The last time I’d been there, I’d thought nothing would be the same afterward, and I’d been right, but this time was even more intense. I was even more sure of my feelings for him, and that things would be different now. All of it.

“I can’t believe you came,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Come in.”