Page 193 of Make Me Mean It

Still catches me sometimes.

That easy way he touches me now. No panic after. No looking around to see who noticed. He just takes my fucking hand because he wants it.

“Come on then,” Connor says, tugging me after him.

I go without arguing, brushing my thumb over his knuckles as we head into the living room.

Marcus is pacing in front of the TV with the remote clenched in one hand, looking about five seconds away from throwing it through the screen.

“Are you hearing this shit?” he demands.

“Hello to you too.”

I drop onto the sofa and tug Connor down with me before he can take the empty space beside me. He comes easily, folding into my side, and I hook an arm around him, pulling him closer until his weight settles warm against my ribs.

“What?” I ask, looking up at Marcus as my thumb starts moving absently over Connor’s arm.

Marcus turns the volume up instead of answering.

The commentator’s voice fills the room.

“—Former NHL star Kayson Hayde officially announced his retirement this morning following complications with the hip injury that ended his season. Sources say several college programs have already reached out—”

“Shit.”

I sit up slightly, dragging my hand over my mouth as the footage cuts to Hayde on the screen.

“Hayde’s out.” I shake my head. “That’s rough.”

I knew the injury was bad. Everyone did. But there’s a difference between missing a season and having the entire fucking thing ripped out from underneath you.

Connor shifts against me, twisting until he can look up at my face.

“Isn’t he the one that got into a fight with that guy over a rookie?”

Marcus scoffs as he drops onto the opposite sofa and cracks open his beer.

“Try three guys.”

Connor’s entire face changes.

His eyes light up as he turns towards Marcus. “He’s the one you had all over your wall.”

The accusation in his voice fucking gets me.

A laugh bursts out before I can stop it, and I press my lips together, trying to smother it when Marcus glares at me.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“No, no.” I hold a hand up, still laughing. “This is good.”

“It was one poster.”

Connor gives him a look. “It was not one poster.”

I choke on another laugh, and Marcus points his beer at both of us.

“You two can leave.”