Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 132951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
He looks gorgeous as usual, but discordant with his surroundings. Every time I see him outside of the arena, he seems out of place. Though he fits at least a little better in Lucy’s home, amidst the opulence and grandeur.
I glance over his shoulder to the closed door across the hall, where Flip lives.
“I need to talk to you,” Connor states flatly, but he still manages to infuse the sentence with certainty and insistence. His gaze drops to Dewey, tucked into the crook of my elbow. “What the heck is that?”
“Dewey, my pet hedgehog.” I pull Connor inside my apartment, quickly closing the door.
I have enough bullshit going on in my life without him and Flip punching each other out in the hall. Also, I’m terrified that something happened between Callie’s hockey game last night and now, and Lucy has met an untimely end. But Connor doesn’t look destroyed, and I have a feeling losing her would ruin him. Worse, based on the way my heart is thrumming in my chest, it will ruin me too.
Still, I ask the question, just to be sure. “Is Lucy okay?”
“For now.” That’s a painful truth.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets, but they only stay there for a second before he laces his fingers behind his neck. Connor glances around my apartment. Not with judgment, but with interest, maybe—like he’s trying to see me in the things I surround myself with. Which, to be honest, is mostly old books and board games.
The apartment is a mausoleum to the life my grandmother left behind. I kept everything she had when I took over the lease after she passed, seeking some kind of connection to my history other than our shared name. It was the one gift she gave me, along with a letter explaining why she stayed out of my life.
“Let me put Dewey away.” I cross to his hedgehog condo and gently set him inside before turning back to Connor. “What do you need to talk to me about?” I cross my arms, then drop them to my sides, then cross them again. Looks like we’re both fidgety. “Can I get you something to drink?” I move to the kitchen, which is all of three steps away, and shove my head in the fridge. I need something to do with my hands that doesn’t involve wringing them.
I have water, a single can of no-name lemon-lime soda, strawberry cordial, and two ultra-light beers.
I grab the beers. Whatever the reason, Connor being here can’t be good.
I uncap them both and pass him one, then chug half my own and grimace because I dislike the taste of beer immensely. I only have it because Flip left them here for our game nights.
Connor sets his beer on the table. “Please show me the letter that fell out of your purse when you were at Meems’s the other night.”
This again? “Why?”
“Because I want to read the entire thing.”
“You already know the gist. Why do you need to read the whole thing?” And why are you suddenly so interested in me?
“Because I do.”
“And that’s supposed to be enough of a reason?”
He blinks at me.
I blink back. But I’m too intrigued by his sudden appearance at my apartment to refuse. So I fish it out of my purse and hand it over. I took it to a lawyer today. Apparently, it’s legit. That was an expensive and shitty conversation.
Connor scans it with an unnervingly attractive furrowed brow. He’s brutally handsome. His steel eyes lift. “Who else knows about this?”
“No one.” Yet. I considered telling Lexi because her dad is a fancy New York lawyer, but she’s married to Roman, and he’s tight with Flip. While I won’t hide it from Flip forever, I want to be sure of the scope of the problem first. And ideally also have a solution.
Connor employs his mind-reading skills. “Why haven’t you asked Flip for help?”
I roll the beer bottle between my hands. “I won’t do that.”
Connor’s brow pulls together. “You don’t think he would help you?”
“He would insist on it, and I won’t ask.”
Curiosity shifts his features, changing the harsh landscape to soft questioning. “Why not?”
“Because it would change our relationship, and I don’t want that for either of us.”
“Do you love him?”
God, he’s blunt. “Yes. Like family, but I’m not in love with him.”
Connor isn’t the first or last person to ask this. All our friends have believed it to be true at some point. So I’ll just be clear. “There has never and will never be anything romantic between us. He’s too important to me, and I won’t ask for his help on this, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.”
Flip has been used by enough people in his life. I won’t unbalance our friendship by having him step in and fix this for me. My love for him and the health of our relationship is too essential. And Connor is the last person I would choose to confide in about any of that.