Page 157 of If You Claim Me

Tally knocks what’s left of her popcorn to the floor. Her eyes are glued to the screen, hand covering her mouth, eyes wide with fear.

Essie gives me a look as she reaches out to console her. “He’s getting up. He’s okay.”

“What if he has a concussion? What if he’s out again like he was last season? He had such a hard time when he hurt his ankle…” Her voice trails off as she glances around.

“Did you visit him when that happened?” Hemi asks.

“I brought him homemade mac and cheese and Good n’ Plenty because they’re his favorites.” Tally wrings her hands. “I just wanted to see for myself that he was okay.”

“It’s okay, Tally. We know you have feelings for him,” Rix says.

“What?” Her eyes dart around. “I—I don’t… What are you?—?”

Essie squeezes her hand. “It’s okay. We’re your friends.”

The color drains from her face as we nod. “You all know?”

“We’ve been friends for a long time, Tally,” Hammer explains.

Her bottom lip trembles. “How long have you known?”

Hammer shrugs. Rix and Essie exchange a look.

Hemi is apparently the only one of us with the balls to admit the truth. “For a long time.”

“Oh my gosh, do you think he knows?” She slaps her palm over her mouth and tears stream down her face. “I’ll never be able to face him again. I’m so embarrassed.”

We spend the next half hour consoling Tally, trying to talk her off the emotional ledge. My heart aches for her—especially after she finds out through Rix that Flip is probably out for a few games with a concussion.

Toronto loses the game by one goal in the last two minutes, making them 0 for 3 on this away series.

At the end of the night, the girls take a teary Tally home, and I head upstairs. I stand inside the bedroom I’ve been sleeping in for months and wonder how much longer I’ll be here.

I change into pajamas and call Connor. I hate that I’m surprised when he picks up.

“Hey.” It’s just one word, but his tone speaks volumes. It’s short, clipped, guarded.

I feel like we’ve rewound back to September, when he showed up at my door with a contract and a way to solve my financial problems. “How are you?”

“Fine. How’s Meems?”

“She’s gaining strength every day.” It’s the truth. She’s bouncing back in the most beautiful way.

He sighs. “That’s what the doctors are saying, so it’s good to hear it from you, too.”

“I’m sorry about the game tonight.”

“It is what it is.”

I hug his pillow to my chest, wishing I could confront him, force him to be honest. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say, Dred? We had a shit series, and I’m at fault for a lot of it, and now our lead scorer is out with an injury.” His frustration bleeds through in his tone. “Look, I don’t have the bandwidth to do this with you. It’s been a crap week. I’m tired, and we have an early flight.”

I’m still stuck on the fact that he called me Dred. He only ever uses my full name or darling, or little menace.

He clears his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Safe travels,” I reply woodenly.