Page 1 of If You Claim Me

CHAPTER 1

DRED

FRAUD.

I am a fraud.

I have committed fraud.

The word keeps slicing at me—unraveling my fragile ecosystem, poisoning it.

A panic spiral I don’t have time for is heading my way. If I was at home, I could succumb, let the anxiety wash over me and drag me down. But I’m at work, and my shift at the library doesn’t end for several more hours. I slip my finger under the hair tie around my wrist and pull it away from my skin, letting it snap back into place.

I repeat the action a dozen times, fighting to contain the panic before it can turn into a prickly weed and wrap me in its unrelenting, thorny hug.

The paper in my hands taunts me as I will the words and numbers to change, but they remain the same. I owe $105,300.27 in back rent (with interest) to the new apartment manager. I should have realized the rent I was paying was far too cheap for the building I was living in, but I didn’t question it, and now here I am—because my name is the same as my late grandmother’s, and until the management company changed, theycontinued to charge me what she’d been paying. Now I’ve made the leap to current market value and have to fill in the five-year gap I created.

I stop snapping the hair tie before I break the skin, fold the letter, and slide it back into my purse. Looking up, I grasp the edge of the sink, meeting my distressed gaze in the reflection. “You do not have time for a breakdown,” I say aloud. “Put it on hold. You can lose it when you get home. But you cannot do it here. You will figure a way out of this. You always do.”

I hope I’m right.

I take a deep breath, put my feelings on lock, and step out into the hall. I have five minutes left on my break, enough time to make tea. And then the after-school crowd arrives, which means my favorite twins Victor and Everly will grace me with their vibrant energy—which I could use right about now. They live at the group home a couple of blocks away, and I adore them.

Except as I turn toward the staff lounge, I run smack into a very solid chest. Warm hands wrap around my shoulders to steady me, sending an unexpected jolt through my body. I recognize the cologne immediately. I frown as I look up and am met with a closeup of the very chiseled jaw of Connor Grace.

He’s irritatingly attractive, and his presence is wholly disarming.

Also, we’re making physical contact, and my body enters haywire-mode as a result—like I wasn’t already distressed.

Connor’s piercing, steel gray eyes are locked on me, and his full lips tug down at the corners, as though the world is an irritant he’s forced to endure.

I know two versions of the man standing before me.

The first is the archenemy of my best friend, Flip Madden—that Connor is a Terror enforcer with a nasty reputation on the ice and professional hockey’s favorite villain.

The second Connor is the pro hockey player who attends hiscoach’s younger sister’s practices and games because she’s his number one fan, and he’s hers.

These are vastly different sides of the same man. The latter is a glimmering ruby of kindness I want to tuck in my pocket like a treasure.

For the past year, Connor has taken up space in the seat next to mine at Callie’s games on a nearly weekly basis. We both love that little girl.

New panic takes hold.Callie. “What are you doing here? Is Callie okay? Is Lexi?”

Lexi Forrest-Hammer is Connor’s pregnant coach and my best friend.

“Lexi is fine. So is Callie.” He drops his hands from my shoulders. “I’ve been looking for you.”

His tone makes it sound like it’s my fault he couldn’t find me. Like he wasted precious time, and I should feel bad about it.

Looks like our shitty moods match.

“Well, here I am. What do you want? I’m on break.”For three more minutes.

He rubs the back of his neck. “I need Meems’s books.”

“Who?”

“Meems. My grandmother. I need her books.”