“Yeah. Sure.”

I frowned as we hung up. The whole conversation had been odd, not really Trent-esque, but I decided to stop thinking about it. I’d just hear what he had to say tomorrow night. Until then, I stood and turned toward my cabin.

Grab and dash. Don’t breathe.

I ran inside, and I swear the smell had worsened again. After grabbing pants, I had just enough time to grab the bag Reese originally packed for me. I had to gasp once, and I almost threw up. This cabin really did need to be condemned.

Thanks, Keith. Boss of the year.

I’d just deposited everything in Reese’s cabin when my phone buzzed again.

Reese: At a gas station. You need anything?

Me: Booze allowed?

Reese: Done. Wine coolers?

I laughed.

Me: How about we do shots your last night here?

I waited, but there was a second before he texted back.

Reese: Shit. Just asked. Our last two preseason games are back home. We leave in three days.

I knew. And I tried to ignore how my stomach shriveled at the thought. Three days. Or more like two days. That’s how much time I had with Reese.

Reese: I bought a bottle of vodka.

Vodka it would be then.

Me: Always wanted to be half-Russian.

He didn’t respond, so I tucked my phone away and spent some time on my laptop. I needed to find a few jobs to apply for, maybe email someone about my apartment. Reese had his own Wi-Fi, and he’d left it behind, so I plugged that in. The camp’s internet sucked. Since I’d be out of a job again in a few days, I figured it was time I headed back home to face the music.

If I didn’t have any money coming in, I’d need to make some moves. New apartment, or gasp, make the dreaded call to see if I could bunk in my old room at my parents’ house. Damian and I had broken up once before, and I had asked if I could move back home. My mom said I could stay for the summer, but I’d have to pay rent. Damian and I had gotten back together three hours later, so I’d never had to deal with her offer. Now things were different.