“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” she said quietly, pocketing her phone, as though it could hide the conversation she’d just had.
“It’s okay.”
“No. It’s not. But that’s not on you.”
I gave her a small smile and dragged her into my arms to hold her just a bit longer.
“I’m not allowed to play the rest of the game. Or the rest of the week. Shit, I wonder if he’ll bench me for the Vegas game.”
Blair put a soft hand over my mouth.
“How about we take this one day at a time. Don’t start with thewhat-ifsor you’ll drive yourself mad.”
“Therapy’s really helping, huh?” I asked against her palm. She replaced it with her lips for a swift kiss, then stood back.
“I have to get back for the last period, but do you need anything?”
I shook my head. “Just you when you’re done. I’ll meet you at my truck.”
She blew a kiss at the door and left me to my pounding head and circling thoughts.
Blair
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.” No.
I didn’t want to subject Cian to my family, especially after learning that his was just as bad, possibly worse, the night before, but the thought of facing them on my own made me want to vomit. More than once on the drive here, I’d caught him wincing, but he’d refused to let me drive, and insisted he didn’t need medication. He was here for me completely.
I used the door knocker, striking the wood three times only, because heaven forbid I exceed what was polite and be viewed as harassing the occupants. A joyful bark echoed through the door, and I allowed myself a small smile at the only light in visiting my parents.
The door opened, letting out a waft of tomatoes, flour, and tobacco as a five-foot-nothing nightmare appeared in a black dress and frilly apron.
“Blair, so nice of you to join us.” Her voice was like ice, as cold and unmoved as her forehead since she’d started investing in botox.
“Hi Mom,” I muttered, subtly squeezing Cian’s hand and receiving a squeeze in return.
“And who’s this?” Her eyes traced over my date. Evaluating him and finding him wanting purely because he kept company with me.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am, I’m Cian.” He held his hand out for a shake and received a sniff in return. Without another word, she turned back into the house, leaving the door open behind her.
“Leave your shoes at the door,” she said over her shoulder as she opened the door into the kitchen. A bang and crash sounded as a mop-haired dog muscled through the gap and barreled down the hall.
“Get ready. This is the only fun we’ll have today.”
I didn’t bother to explain as I lay flat on my back and let the golden retriever crawl all over me in greeting. Bessie was the youngest in a long line of retrievers my parents had owned, dutifully returning to the same breeder whenever the last one passed on. When Georgia and I were younger—before we’d declared ourselves mortal enemies—we’d made a tradition of greeting the dog like this whenever we got home from school.
I giggled as Bessie slipped and slid over me, her tongue knocking my glasses askew and her foot punching into my gut, knocking the wind out of me.
“This seems hazardous,” Cian said with a laugh, hooking me under the arms to pull me to my feet.
“Fun though.” I grinned at him as he scrubbed his hands through the mountains of fur.
“She’s beautiful,” he said, a sad look flitting across his face.
Damn it, he was thinking about his parents.
I was so mad at them. How could they not see that Cian was one of the best people in the world?
