I’m about to ask her to elaborate when Connor walks into the room, face morphing from surprise to cocksure delight upon seeing my sister.
“Aye, if you wanted me naked, Tinkerbell, all you had to do was ask.” Lottie rolls her eyes, not responding, but he doesn’t let up. “I still have a few tricks up my towel I could show you.”
Connor goes to swing his arm around Lottie’s shoulders, but Cavan steps forward, grabbing hold of his wrist. “If you want to have a working wrist to play with, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”
“Why don’t you let her decide what she wants, old man?”
“Fuck off, Davies. No one on the team is dating my baby sister.” It’s my one effort to get him to bow out before I have to escalate the situation.
“Who said anything about dating?” the little shite says.
Both Cavan and I take a step forward before Lottie spins on Connor and lands a swift punch to his crotch. “Memorize that feeling, because that’s the only time I’m touching your willy.”
“You bi?—”
“I suggest you don’t finish that sentence,” Myles advises before Connor hobbles off, bent over at the waist, writhing in pain.
“I’m sorry I caused a scene. I’m going to go now—nurse my wounded pride with an entire packet of Jaffa Cakes, and rewatch Gossip Girl.”
“Do you want me to keep you company?”
“No, I think I need to be alone.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry. I had a teeny tiny meltdown and came here cause I knew you’d be getting out of practice, and my friends are still in class. I’m fine… I’ll be fine. Promise.”
She puts on a brave smile I think is more to convince her that she’s alright instead of me. A family trait, apparently. Even still, my stomach churns when she pops up on her toes to kiss my cheek before skipping away without another word.
Cavan’s body leans toward her retreating form, a concerned furrow to his brow. I want to ask him about it, but Myles pipes in, voicing the thought on all our minds.
“We might need to pay a special visit to the university.”
I snort out my agreement. If my game play or relationship with Jade isn’t the thing to get me barred from consideration for the National Team, a smug professor might be if I ever find out what exactly he said to my younger sister.
Home iswhere the wine is.
Or, at least, it would be, if I hadn’t arrived home to a note on my kitchen counter from Aanya saying she took mylastbottle because she was running late to a party and didn’t want to show up empty handed.
I had half a mind to employ medieval punishment practices for her thievery and have her hands removed on a butcher's block in front of the whole village. The only reason I’m not is because she needs those hands to play her angelic music, and I’m not in the habit of denying the world something that beautiful.
Undoubtedly, though, she will have her spare key privileges revoked, because what the fuck.
After the day I had, the only thing I was looking forward to was alargeglass of cabernet, and now, that reality has been cruelly ripped away by my neighbors pilfering hands and inability to plan ahead.
On impulse, I pick up my phone and take a picture of me frowning with the note in my hand and shoot it off to Aanya. Then, on a last minute whim, I send it to Tieran too.
Aanya responds immediately with a million gifs all begging for mercy, and it’s impossible to actually be mad at her. The woman is sunshine personified, and being angrywith her would be akin to holding a grudge against a bunny.
My head dips back into the fridge as I kick off my heels, groaning when my feet touch the wood floor and the aches start to level out.
Today has been non-stop, with hardly enough time to even eat. Sustaining oneself with an apple and a protein bar for the majority of the day is not conducive to keeping energy high. My stomach grumbles in protest as I shove things around, hunting for anything edible and substantial enough to curb the faint dizziness I’m starting to feel.
Giving up when I find nothing more than a cheese stick, ten different types of sauce, and a half-eaten stale sandwich from earlier in the week, I grab my phone, ready to rely on God's greatest gift to humankind—delivery.
However, the universe seems to be consorting with my manager—mother—in ruining my day, because as I go to put in an order, my phone rings with an incoming call from none other than Maxine herself.
“Can I call you back?” I ask, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder so I can go through the takeaway menus that have been left on my doorstep by solicitors.
