>Sebastian
“So, your phone does work,” Gabe joked when I picked up his call.
“Yea,” I grunted. I’d been sprawled out on my couch for hours with the TV on the sports channel, but I couldn’t tell you what was on.
“You’ve been ducking my calls for weeks. That tells me you did lie at dinner, and this whole Lynlee Scott thing is a big deal,” Gabe analyzed.
“Look, I have s**t to do-”
“You have nothing to do but get your ass on a plane.”
“Why would I do that?” I had done exactly nothing since I left practice last night. Christmas was in 48 hours, and we didn’t have practice until the day after. I was wallowing, but I’d lost the ability to care.
“Because you should be with friends. Come down, see the kids. Let Isabella put a few pounds on you with something cooked in copious amounts
