Connell (Carolina Reapers 3)

“I don’t know how to say thank you, Sephie.”

She smiled at me. “You just did.”

“Well as fun as this has been, Sephie and I are needed at our respective offices. Cannon, Logan, please see that he’s sober, showered, and at practice?”

“Yes, Mom,” Logan sang, but his eyes were dull.

“Echo, Connell, it was so lovely to see you, even if it was a little...dramatic. Logan, please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.” She turned to Cannon. “Cannon.”

“Persephone.”

“Leaving,” Langley announced. In a whirl of blonde hair, Sephie followed Langley out.

“That girl is like a fucking unicorn had sex with a rainbow and then that offspring mated with woodland fairy Barbie,” Echo muttered.

We all turned slowly to look at her.

“What? Sawyer calls her Fairytale Princess Barbie if that helps.” She shrugged.

“It doesn’t.” Cannon announced, then started chugging his water.

“How do Barbies mate?” Logan questioned.

“You see, when two people love each other—” I started.

He grinned. “Now look at who’s back to cracking jokes.”

My smile fell.

“Connell, walk me out,” Echo ordered, taking her bag from the counter.

She was quiet until we reached the front door. “I was thinking about what you said.”

“With all that in there, ye had time to think?”

She rolled her eyes. “Look. I don’t think she wants you to change. I think she wants you put her first. That’s before your need to crack a joke or mouth off during an interview. She loves you. I know that. She wants you, Connell. Not some watered-down serious version of you. Honestly, she needs you to help her with that whole caring-what-people-think thing.”

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me.” I scratched at my beard. “Ye think she’d even listen to the tape if I got it? That I’d even have a shot?”

“I think if you can get her to listen to the tape, and if it really talks about how much you love her, then she’d be a fool not to give you another shot. And...God, I’m going to regret this if it doesn’t go right, but I’ll help you in whatever way I can.”

An idea sparked in my head, but it was a gamble.

A big one.

“Do ye think ye can get her to a game for me?”

20

Annabelle

Draped in my favorite cream cashmere sweater and thick brown editor pants, I tried to click into Reaper arena with a mask of confidence and bravado. But even with the power-outfit and heeled boots, it wasn’t enough.

The past two weeks had been miserable. Every attempt from Connell to connect re-opened the wound that I doubted would ever heal. Even after many nights sleep, drinks with Echo, and diving head-first into my work, I missed him. Hated that I missed him so much, hated that I spent hours staring at my bedroom ceiling coming up with ways to rationalize his behavior. Forgive him.

But what would that make me? How could I trust what we’d had was real for him? Or would everything always be some hilarious joke?

I smoothed my sweater, my heart racing. After Echo had informed me about a check Persephone had collected on behalf of the reserve, I’d almost sent Lacy to retrieve it, but while I may have a broken heart, I wasn’t without my dignity.

The game had yet to start, but the stadium seats were full. The jumbotron played clips from previous games or advertisements for concessions before the game started. Rock music blared overhead, the guitar riffs and bold lyrics pumping up the already excited crowd.

I tried not to grind my teeth as I headed to where Echo had indicated I collect the check. Down the west corridor, toward where the hallway met the ice.

Somewhere in the locker room, Connell was likely lacing up his skates getting ready to tackle the ice in the way he did best.

I cringed at the hunger to see him, to set eyes on his strong jaw, his mischievous smile, to feel those strong arms cradle me like I was the most important person in the world.

I shoved those thoughts away, reminding myself of the very real pain from his words, from the articles.

“Love,” Connell’s voice sounded over the speakers, the music dying, the crowd instantly hushing. “It can look and sound like a lot of things,” he continued, and I whirled around, hearing him both over the loudspeakers and behind me.

And there he was in all his Reaper glory, his skates making him ten times taller than he already was. He glided toward me, smoothing over the ice like liquid silk, a microphone in his hand. He skidded to a stop, resting one hand on the partition that bordered the ice. I walked closer, my eyes wide as I tilted my head.

“This is what it sounds like to me,” he said, and he shifted on his skates, pointing to his ear.

My hands flew over my mouth as his voice filled the speakers...saying words I’d read before. The same horrible, awful quote that had shattered my heart in the first place. Yet, reading it and listening to it were two entirely different things.