“Not the second one,” I manage to force out.
Fuck if that doesn’t make the three of them squeeze me tighter.
Sheila tightest of all. “And you can take this from me, as a mother and a breast cancer survivor, that your mother did not leave you because she wanted to.”
My eyes hurt.
So do my sinuses.
Even Sweet Pea’s getting in on the action, twisting in her sling like she, too, wants to get closer.
And then the little devil licks my T-shirt right over my heart.
“Goldie met your old coach a couple weeks ago,” Odette says, “and he told her why he really fired you, and it had absolutelynothing to do with you, or your performance, or your value to the team. He fucked you over, and she read him the riot act.”
My heart thumps once, loudly and painfully. “What?”
“She tried to tell you, but you blocked her, so she can’t,” Evelyn adds.
“Such a horrible situation.” Sheila’s rubbing my back. “The man had the audacity to fire you because his daughter thought she was in love with you.”
“Annalise?” What the ever-lovingfuck? She’s still a teenager in my brain. The last time I sent her a holiday present, it was a goddamndoll. The last time I saw her at the stadium, I gave her a fist bump and called herkid.
I think.
That’s what I usually did.
I don’t actually remember the last time I saw her at the stadium. Not specifically.
Again,what the ever-loving fuck?
“Is that her name?” Evelyn asks.
This doesn’t make sense.
“She’s engaged,” I mutter.
Odette tsks. “Broke it off and told her father she was in love with you. According to him.”
They’re all three still smothering me.
My heart’s pounding. I can’t suck enough air into my lungs. My thighs are shaking.
“And according to some of your old teammates,” Sheila whispers, “Goldie tracked them down and Goldie-ed them and got them to talk. They said you were oblivious.”
SheGoldie-edthem.
And not a single one of the wankers reached out to tell me they’d seen her.
Why would they?
I never told any of them I was seeing anyone, much less wentinto specifics. And if any of them still track my socials, which I don’t expect them to do, they’d know we had a thing and they’d know it’s over.
They’re not my teammates anymore. Not the way the Pounders are. They have other shit to do besides hold my hand when I break up with a casual fling.
But they could’ve bloody well told me it wasn’t my fault I was fired.
If they thought I’d listen.
