Page 79 of Your Play to Call

I’m speechless. There are no words in my brain.

“You say you do things on a whim, but you can’t do that with me. Not like that.” Her voice is cold and shaky. “I already told you how much I hate things like what just happened. Actually, tonight is one of my greatest fears come to life.” Each tear that rolls punches me in the stomach.

“I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say. She’s right. I look over to see silent tears fall down her cheeks.

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to think before you do things. You can act however you want when it’s just you. Go ahead and get in fist fights with random strangers on the street. Please don’t be reckless with me.” She’s looking out the window now. Like she can’t even stomach looking at me.

I don’t respond because I don’t know what to say. We ride in silence. When Seth gets me close enough to my apartment and I’m convinced no one is close enough to be a threat, I say, “Seth. This is close enough.”

He finds a good stopping point and I open the door, getting out of the car. I look at Willow one final time.

"Will you text me when you get home?” I ask her.

She nods yes. I lean in and give her a featherlight kiss on her cheek. She doesn’t turn away, which I think is a good sign.

“Seth, I’ll have my team get me back to my place. That way you can get Willow home,” I say, as I reach for the door.

“Sounds good, Mr. Owens.”

I get out of the car. I try to look at Willow before I close the door, but she won’t look at me.

There’s a pit in my stomach as they drive off.

I’m back at myapartment for only thirty minutes before there’s a knock at my door.

“Tripp. Let me in,” my mom says from the other side of the door.

I open the door and she hugs me the second she’s inside.

“Tell me everything.”

So, I do. I tell her about Dexter. About everything with the press. How Willow wanted to go home, and I wasn’t invited.

“Is that everything?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, I think so.”

And then she pushes me in the chest before launching into a rant.

“Tripp James. You should be ashamed of yourself. You thought giving some drunk idiots what they wanted was better than staying with her? What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know! I thought if I gave them some attention it would end the interaction. My brain was all fucking jumbled from Dexter showing up.” I put my head in my hands and try to think.

“You think she was saferwithoutyou? She’ll never be safer than with you. You also wouldn’t have gotten punched.”

“I barely got punched,” I point out.

My mom puts her hands in her lap and leans back into the couch. “You know what I’m talking about. Don’t get smart with me,” she says in her perfect mom voice, one I’ve heard countless times before.

“You’ll never be able to get rid of the press. They will always be around with their annoying and terrible timing. What you can do is stand by Willow and make her a priority.”

The words hurt because she’s right. What was I trying to prove? The flash of Willow on the ground comes back and I feel fucking horrible. It was a fluke thing, but I could’ve done something. I could’ve caught her.

“You can also listen to what she says. She’s giving you the playbook and you’re going rogue.” I know she uses football terminology because she’s trying to soften the blow. It still hurts.

“I’m scared I fucked this up, Mom.”

“One, language. Two, she needs time. Give her tonight, like she asked. You need to think about this and be ready to explain yourself tomorrow.”