Connell (Carolina Reapers 3)

“Gentlemen.” Coach rubbed the skin between his eyebrows as he approached. “Grab your bags. We’re staying the night. We’ll get out first thing in the morning, but FAA says we can’t fly in this.”

We all collectively groaned.

So much for getting home—for getting to Annabelle tonight.

“Hey, lass. I’m starting to really worry that something has happened to ye. I’ve called a few times, and texted, but you’re not responding. I thought maybe your phone was dead last night, but now it’s today and you’re still not picking up. God, I’m just hoping everything is okay.”

“Sir, you need to hang up for take off,” the flight attendant lectured with a frozen smile.

“Okay, we’re finally getting ready to take off, so I’ll come straight to you when I get home. Just text and let me know where you’ll be. Please?”

“Sir.”

“I love ye and I’ll see ye shortly.”

“Sir!”

“I’m off!” I snapped, and swiped my phone into airplane mode.

Fuck. What the hell was going on? Was she hurt? Wouldn’t someone have called me? Why wasn’t she answering? Had I made her angry by insinuating that I wanted to crawl into bed with her when I got home? Had she changed her mind about me? About us? Were the away games too much for her to handle?

My thoughts raged the entire flight home, and by the time we landed in Charleston, I was a balled up mess of raging nerves and fear.

“It’s just the phone,” I assured myself as I drove toward Sweet Water in the caravan of hundred-thousand dollar cars that made up the Reapers. “It went dead. She threw it. Arnie stole it.”

She wasn’t hurt. She wouldn't be. Even Sawyer said that Echo had been too busy at the bar to talk much, but if something had been wrong with Annabelle, Echo would have said something.

I pulled into my drive and felt about fifty years of stress fall off me as I spotted her white Volvo in the drive. She was here. Thank God.

I parked in the garage and didn’t even bother to close the door before I flew into the house.

“Annabelle!” I called out, throwing my keys on the counter.

There was a rustling—she was coming down the stairs.

I walked into the foyer with a smile on my face. “God, I’ve missed ye, lass. What happened to your phone? I’ve been calling and calling—what the hell?”

Annabelle came down the stairs wearing jeans and a t-shirt, which was enough to alarm me, but she was carrying a box.

“Glad you made it home safely.” Her voice was as cool as the look she sent my way before walking straight past me. No smile. No kiss. Nothing.

“Annabelle? Love?” I followed her to the front door. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” she answered.

“But I just got here…”

“Which is why I’m leaving. I honestly thought I’d have my stuff out by now, but it proved a bit more difficult than I thought.”

“What am I missing?” I asked slowly, trying to get my brain to recognize what was causing my heart to bleed out on the hardwood.

“Missing? Well, I guess that would be me. I’m leaving.”

“The house?” I guessed, hoping she didn’t mean what I thought she did. The nausea churning in my belly told me it was exactly what I feared.

“No, Connell. I’m leaving you.”

Forget bleeding out, my heart disintegrated on the spot.

18

Annabelle

“Annabelle,” Connell said my name like a plea as I dropped the box on his porch and spun around, heading up the stairs to get the last one. I shuffled around his bedroom, throwing the last of my things into the final box. “Annabelle, I deserve to know what the hell is going on,” he said, stepping into my path to halt my progress. His touch was like a brand, and I jerked my arm from his hand.

I gaped at him, the only emotion I allowed myself to show at the moment. “You’re going to pretend like you don’t know?”

His eyes widened. “I have no idea what would cause you not to take my calls or spur this reaction.” He tapped the box in my hands.

Pain rippled through my already shredded heart. Why was he still playing me? I shook my head, shifting the box to my hip to fish my cell from my pocket. A couple clicks, and the article and photos were up. I tossed it at his chest, and he caught it with fast reflexes.

The longer he scrolled, the longer her read the article, the more that muscle in his jaw ticked. The more I thought he would break my phone from clutching it so hard.

He carefully handed the phone to me, taking a step backward. “Please listen to me,” he said. “You know I’m crazy about you. This is—”

“I said this would happen from the beginning.” I scoffed, shaking my head. “I kept saying it. I told you all about my ex and what happened in Atlanta from long distance. Told you I would never be put in that situation again. And you…you had the nerve to tell I was wrong. To make me believe—” I cut my words short, pressing my lips together.