“You okay?” I ask as we reach the sidewalk. I should unclasp our hands since no one is looking, but I don’t.
Her forehead furrows. “Yes, but let’s not talk about him.”
All right. I can understand that. Sometimes a person just needs to process, and I get the feeling she’s still figuring out how she feels about Andrew . . .
“He isn’t worth worrying about.” I brush my lips against her forehead, a total impulse.
“Totally.” She squeezes my hand as we walk, our steps in sync as she keeps pace with me in red high heels.
“Let’s talk about this ‘adorable’ thing. It’s a word for puppies and little girls,” I say a few minutes later. “Can you find a new adjective?”
She turns her face to me and laughs, her lips curving up as her eyes dance. “Nope. You’re stuck with it. I adore it. I’m going to post it on the team’s Insta.”
“I think sexy would work,” I say. “You already think I am.”
“So cocky, Ronan, but it will forever and always be adorable.” She giggles and leans into me, her shoulder brushing mine. Her scent wafts around me, sweet and tart. We’ve been careful around each other, but today we’re still stuck together like glue, naturally and effortlessly.
Loneliness rises and taunts me, at the idea of going home after practice, just me and Dog. Unbidden, I picture Nova in my house, sitting next to me on the couch. We’d have dinner and talk about her lack of Star Wars knowledge or football or New York or goats. She’d be pressed against me, her face upturned and animated as she told me a story about high jinks she might have gotten into in New York.
I inhale a sharp breath. I mustn’t think about things I can’t have.
I ease away from her when we walk into the office. “I need to change.”
“Okay.” She nods, all business, as she picks up the ringing phone.
I shut the door and yank off my shirt, my chest rising. I toss my slacks on the table and jerk on my shorts, reminding myself . . .
Keep it professional. No attachments means no pain. Don’t forget it.
My cell rings as I park outside the stadium in Collinwood, a small town an hour away from Blue Belle. I snatch it up.
“Yo. Tuck. What’s up? I’m about to head to the locker room. It’s game night.”
He lets out a noisy exhale—as usual—the sound of disco-tech music in the background. “What’s up? What’s fucking up? I don’t care if you have a game! Your mom called me is what’s up! You’re dating Nova? When? How? I’m hurt, man, hurt! I’m your best goddamn friend in the world! I did that! I did that! I found her for you, and you wouldn’t give me a call and let me know?”
“Calm down. You are my best friend.”
“I am calm! It’s loud in here!” He groans. “You never told me she lived in Blue Belle when you called me.”
“Go outside so I can hear you. And shouldn’t you be recuperating?”
“I left the apartment so the maid could clean.” I hear rustling, the sound of the music dampening. “I’m doing some kick-ass physical therapy. I’m dead every time I leave the therapist. I needed to get out. I miss playing, bro; I miss the team so fucking much.” He pauses. “Ah, shit . . . I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“I’m good. Don’t worry about it.” I want him to feel free to talk to me. My loss still cuts, but it always will.
“Tell me the deets about Nova. Every single one. How did this happen?”
I wince and run down her being my neighbor, then her job at the school. I remind him about the machinations of the town, then tell him about Andrew. “We’re, um, fake dating.” Jesus, it sounds stupid when I say it out loud.
“What are you, an idiot? Why isn’t this a real thing?”
My hands twist around the steering wheel as an image of Nova flits through my head.
“I’m just . . .” I can’t explain it to him. He breezes through girls, one after the other, and he’s never been broken.
I was. The pieces inside of me aren’t meant to fit back together. I don’t want them to.
There’s a silence. “Ronan. Dude. You don’t seem like the type of guy to initiate a fake relationship for the sake of warding women off. That’s bullshit. You can fend off women yourself—”
The bus pulls up alongside me. Posters with GO BOBCATS decorate the sides. “Gotta go, Tuck. My team’s here. I’ll call you later. Miss you, bro.”