Fighting For You (The Connor Family 5)

“Ohoho, wait a second. I thought you said it was all very... relaxed.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t miss him.”

“So, let’s see. You two text during the day, regularly make plans, and don’t see other people, right?”

“Yes.”

Franci smiled but didn’t say anything else, which immediately had me on alert. Franci was one of those people who always voiced their opinions, and I appreciated her for that.

“What?” I prodded.

“It sounds like the two of you care about each other a lot.”

I sighed, bringing my knees to my chest. Of course, I cared about Jace. I wasn’t sure if it was because he and I had grown close before, but I could feel my attachment to him deepening, transforming from a friendly bond to something else. The shift was happening so fast that I didn’t even know how to find my balance.

If things didn’t work out, how were we supposed to go back to being just friends? My muscles strummed tight, as if my entire body was rejecting that scenario.

I was only half watching during the first halftime, but by the end of the second one, I was completely into it. The score was 1:1, and the Lords needed this victory. Our forwards were good (I’d go with excellent, but I might be biased since I had a soft spot for the MVP) but so was the opposition’s defense.

The last few minutes were brutal. Every move or scheme the forwards tried, they were blocked. When there were just two minutes left, the unthinkable happened: Jace scored... and then went down as two of the other team’s forwards smashed right into him.

“Oh my God.” I felt my heart crawl up my throat. I moved closer to the TV until I practically had my nose pressed against the screen. Everything around me faded as I tried to gauge how seriously Jace was hurt: the rest of the game, the presenters’ commentary, even my sister’s reassurances.

***

Jace

Victory was worth a few bruised ribs. I’d taken one elbow above the spleen, and a knee straight to the kidney. I’d had worse, and I had time to recover before the next game.

“Nice game, man,” Andrew congratulated as we entered the lobby of the hotel. “Meet you at Jim’s Irish in ten minutes?”

“I’m not coming tonight.”

“You’re hurting?”

“No, just not feeling it.”

Jim’s Irish was a sports bar just across the hotel. We went there after every game here, but tonight I wasn’t in the mood.

I bid Andrew good night before heading to my room. The first thing I did was charge my phone, since the battery died sometime during the game. As soon as the screen lit up, I had to grin. I had about one million messages from my family, asking how bad my injury was. I replied to each before discovering Brooke had also messaged me.

Brooke: Are you okay? I couldn’t tell on TV.

Brooke: Are you hurting?

Brooke: Jaaaace, don’t leave me hanging like this. Are you hurt?

I smiled as I stretched on the bed to call her. I felt oddly happy that she was so worried about me.

“Oh, thank God. I was starting to panic.”

“Starting? Sorry to tell you, but you panicked before you even sent the first message.”

“Smartass. How are you feeling?”

“Looked worse than it was. I’ll have some bruises, but there’s nothing broken or torn.”

“Then why do you sound so strained?”