Speared By You: Later in Life Second Chance Sports Romance (Chicago Steel Series Book 4) by Jessica Buss

Author:Jessica Buss [Buss, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: 907 Publishing LLC
Published: 2023-10-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 31

Tristan

Before I even open my eyes, I run my body through a mental scan. My knee hurts from the fall I took in PT. My stomach is churning and my head is throbbing. I can feel the heat of the sun, so I must be sleeping on the couch in our living room.

Last night, I’d gone out for a drink. The setback in therapy had me enraged, and I didn’t want to feel anything. I didn’t want to see pity on Steph’s face, so I just walked out. I only intended to have a beer or two, but at some point, I lost count of the time and the number of drinks I’d had.

When I got up to leave, I felt my body sway, but I’m sure that was just my knee reacting from the fall I’d taken earlier. It didn’t have anything to do with the fact I’d spent a few hours sucking down bottle after bottle of whatever pilsner they had on hand.

Yawning, I notice my mouth is exceptionally dry. Maybe that, with everything else, suggests I have a hangover. One way to check. I crack open my eyes, and the tiny amount of light that sneaks in feels like a direct hit to my temple from a hammer. Shit. This isn’t good. I force my eyes open a bit more and notice I’m staring at the logo on my steering wheel. Okay, I’m in my truck. But where? It takes effort to get myself righted in the driver’s seat. Once I’ve corrected the seat settings so I’m upright, my eyes fall on a familiar building. Sidewinders, a bar that I’ve been secretly visiting the past few weeks while Steph is at work. How did I get in my truck? And where are my keys? I look in my pockets, under my seat, and flip down the visor. No luck. Then I look at the cupholder and see my phone tucked in it with a piece of paper. My already churning stomach heaves when I recognize the handwriting. Steph.

She has my keys, and all she’s requesting is a conversation. Fuck. I pound the steering wheel and the vibration from it travels up my arm, shaking my body. “Ahhh. I feel like shit,” I shout into the cab of my truck. I need to call my wife.

Grabbing my phone, I power it back on. In no time, I see all the messages she sent me last night that I ignored. Disappointment weighs heavy. I’m an asshole. I promised Steph I regretted getting drunk a month ago, and I was telling the truth. But lately, I’ve discovered a few beers in the afternoon have taken the edge off things. I can admit I didn’t handle yesterday well, but it was too late. And now I need to face the consequences.

Ring, ring.

Is she going to answer? I don’t even know what time it is.

Looking at the clock, I see it’s eight, and she’s usually up. Why isn’t she answering? Because you fucked up again.

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