Gina ignored the cellphone ringing from the passenger seat of Frankie’s Mustang. She didn’t like talking on the phone while she drove, especially when she’d spent the entire drive so far rage-ranting at herself—sometimes out loud.
She’d spent last night stewing, barely sleeping, reliving every excruciating moment of her time with Coach Peters. She’d thought about Junkyard, how she’d jumped into that marriage because she felt so lost and needed some kind of anchor. He’d anchored her, alright, like a pair of concrete shoes. His “man-knows-best” beliefs weren’t that different from everything she’d struggled against growing up. After two months, they’d agreed it was a massive mistake. That was the cherry on top of her self-doubt sundae.
God, how much of her life had she wasted on those two l
