“Right. Not the one you cheated on me with. She’s even newer than that one.”

“She’s nice. Sweet.” He chuckled. “I think you’d like her even.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Sure. Maybe.”

“So, um, when will you be around?”

It was close to ten by now. The drive back would take four hours. “I’ll be there this evening. Anytime after six.”

“Okay. I’ll call you when she’s headed over.”

“Don’t call.” Never call again, in fact. “A text will do.”

And after hanging up with him, I texted Owen, Hadley, Grant, and Trent all the same message.

Me: Keith said the board didn’t have enough funds to pay me, so I packed up my stuff. I’m heading back to try to find a job. If you guys want, come and hang out! I love visitors. Sorry I didn’t stick around to say goodbye. Hope you understand.

And to Reese.

Me: I was fired. I got the feeling your coach didn’t want me around, so I’m heading back to my place. I need to look for a new job. Call later when you have time?

I didn’t expect immediate responses from anyone, so I turned the engine back on, tossed my phone to the seat beside me, and raised the volume on the radio.

It was going to be a painful drive back.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

By that night, I’d come to two main conclusions.

I was the definition of a broke-ass bitch, and I’d been ambitious in thinking my friends would care about my most recent firing.

I had heard from no one. Not a one. My phone was silent the entire drive back, and through the entire evening since. The only text I got was when Luc-ass told me his new girlfriend was heading over with a box of my stuff.

I was ready to let loose, but when I opened the door, the sweetest petite little thing stood on the other side. Lucas was such a dick, because I knew that’d been his goal. He wanted to avoid me, and he knew I wouldn’t be able to tear into her.

He was right. She was super sweet, and once she was gone, I had to face the music.

My friends’ silence aside, I had just enough money to cover three months of rent. What had I been thinking accepting Trent’s proposal to work at camp for the last few weeks? I hadn’t been thinking. That’s right—I’d been drinking. I was dumped and fired, all in the span of twenty-four hours. But reality was back, and I had to get my shit together.

If I didn’t shape up, I had no idea where I could ship myself to.

My parents’? Someone’s couch? My car?