### Chapter 10 **CONNOR** As I make my way to the locker room after practice, I am intercepted by Coach Forrest-Hammer. The burly figure of the coach looms, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “You and Romero were in sync on the ice today,” he notes, his voice booming with approval. I shrug, trying to downplay it. “We played together at the Hockey Academy.” Quinn Romero isn’t just a teammate; he’s part of a history that stretches back to my youth, just like Dallas Bright and Tristan Stiles—and unfortunately, Flip Madden. Lexi shakes her head, a mixture of amusement and seriousness in her expression. “It’s about more than history, Grace. You can predict each other’s moves. That synergy will be crucial for our team this season—and especially for Ryker.” I glance away, an uncomfortable twist in my chest. “We just have similar playing styles.” “Why not just take the compliment?” she suggests, her smile gentle. “Right.” I nod, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Coach.” “You seem more settled these days.” With that, she strides away, leaving me with a tumult of emotions to unravel. Lexi, being Mildred’s closest friend, has to realize that what exists between us isn’t built on love or the promise of forever. Yet she’s right; I do feel less… on edge. The reason for that is Meems’ happiness—my anchor amidst the chaos. I continue down the hall towards the locker room, where the noise is raucous and a touch unruly this time around. Without Roman and Hollis to maintain some semblance of order, it feels like a circus. The rookies look up to the older guys—Madden, Stiles, Palaniappa, and Bright—but I can sense their struggle to fill the void left by Roman. Even I sense the loss acutely. Hammerstein had a knack for bringing us together, for making me feel like I belonged. As I reach my cubby, I find Romero's stall right beside mine—likely a decision made by Coach Forrest-Hammer. He nods at me as I peel off my jersey and take a seat beside him to remove my pads. “Everything okay?” he asks, genuine concern etched on his face. “Yeah. You?” “Just fine. It’s a big shift from where I was last year,” he admits. I know he coached at the Hockey Academy and played out in Pearl Lake last season. “There’s a lot of pressure coming in from all sides. Can’t imagine it’s easy to tune out all that noise,” I reflect, our situations different yet parallel. “I’m definitely staying off social media for the foreseeable future,” he grumbles, a trace of frustration evident. Roman’s dad was a living legend, notorious for his fierce demeanor in his early days—Quinn seems to have inherited that reputation. There’s an ironic twist to the Terror’s management deciding to add two of the chippiest players in the league in consecutive seasons. “Yeah, that helps for sure. But do you have someone managing that for you?” I ask, curious. “My friend Lovey takes care of most of it,” he replies, the tips of his ears reddening. It piques my interest. “Oh? That’s good. It makes it easier to focus when you can avoid the nonsense.” “And all the ladies in my messages looking for casual hookups,” he mutters, exasperation creeping into his voice. “Ah, yes. That gets old after a while,” I agree. After we shower and slip into our street clothes, Dallas and a few of the guys invite us to the Watering Hole. It’s clear the invitation is meant for Romero, but I’m right beside him. “Yeah, I’d love to,” he beams, turning to me. “You in?” “I’ll check with Mildred,” I respond. “She’s at work,” Flip chimes in, a hint of sarcasm surfacing as he adds, “But I’m sure you already know that.” His oddly civil demeanor is disconcerting, and I don’t quite know how to respond. “Yeah, we have a date tonight.” My words are partially true. Besides, the Watering Hole might give Flip the chance to interrogate me further. *Connor:* What time are you coming with the books? *Mildred:* As soon as my shift ends. *Connor:* Which is when? *Mildred:* I’ve shared my calendar with you. I’m off in two hours. That gives me just enough time to check on Meems and ensure she’s ready for a visitor. An email alert pops up: *Dred Reformer has shared her calendar with you.* “I have a few things to take care of before I see Mildred, but maybe next time,” I tell Romero, although I’m uncertain there will be a next time. “Sure thing.” Dallas and Quinn give me a pat on the back as I exit the locker room. A half-hour later, I arrive at Meems’s house, greeted at the door by Cedrick. His expression tells me everything. “How’s she been today?” I ask, hanging my keys on the hook and swapping my shoes. “Tired, sir. She’s been busy,” he replies, worry etched into his features. “Busy with what?” “Moving her things into the guest quarters.” My frown deepens. “Why would she do that?” Cedrick's gaze meets mine, expectant yet somber. He arches a brow, and I mirror the action. “She would like you to move in here with your fiancée.” I poke at my cheek with my tongue, bemused. “This is a twenty-two-thousand-square-foot mansion. She doesn’t need to move anywhere.” “Try telling her that, sir.” “Damn, she’s stubborn,” I grumble, feeling a weight settle in my chest. “Seems to be a family trait,” he clears his throat. “Madame Grace intimated that Ms. Reformer would be visiting this evening.” “Yeah, that’s right.” “Will she be taking public transit again, sir?” I run a hand over my neck, a sigh escaping my lips. “Probably, yeah.” In retrospect, I should have gone to the Watering Hole first and picked her up on the way. “If there’s enough time, I could get her, sir, if you’d like,” Cedrick offers. “Yeah, that would be good.” I have no idea how long the bus takes, but a car would be far more comfortable. “Oh, and there’s a bakery near the library called Just Desserts. Meems loves their lemon cake.” I lament not having time to stop when I last picked up her books. “Can you make sure Mildred chooses something for herself?” “Of course, sir.” He heads off, and I make my way to the reading room, where I find my grandmother, Ethel, and Norm packing boxes under her direction. She looks radiant in a blue dress, her hair and makeup immaculate as if preparing for a special occasion. “What’s going on?” I lean against the jamb, arms crossed. “Connor!” Her wide smile turns into a frown. “Where’s Dred?” “Her name is Mildred,” I correct gently. “She asked me to call her Dred, so that’s what I call her.” “There’s nothing dreadful about her,” I murmur as I step forward to wrap her in a hug. She feels frailer than I remember; I wish her heart would cooperate. “Can’t you manage this sitting down?” She brushes my concern away. “I’m fine.” “Your doctor would beg to differ,” I note, observing how quickly she tires nowadays. “I’m not lifting anything. I’m just directing Ethel and Norm.” I arch a brow, amusement flickering. “So you’re micromanaging.” Ethel coughs, clearly stifling a laugh. “I’m overseeing,” she insists. “You’re an overlord. Sit down, please.” I guide her to her chair, resolute. “Where is Dred?” she presses. “She’s still at work for a little while,” I reply. A frown clouds her features. “Well, why are you here, then?” “To limit your overlording.” The last thing Mildred wants is to endure rush-hour traffic with me; Cedrick is definitely more enjoyable. “Cedrick is on his way to get her,” I assure her. “You will be the one to take her home,” she commands. “Fine, but please explain what this is all about.” I gesture toward the boxes piled by the door, opening a box of chocolate digestive cookies and setting them on the table next to her. They’re a perennial favorite. “I don’t need all this space,” she states. “That’s not the point,” I insist, sitting down across from her. “You also don’t need to move out of all this space.” “It’s too big for me. It’s exhausting just getting to the dining room,” she persists. “We can move you to the main floor,” I suggest helpfully. “The guesthouse is closest to the important rooms I use,” she argues. “Besides, you and Dred will need privacy.” “Because twenty-plus-thousand square feet doesn’t provide enough of that? You can’t give me this house. It’s willed to my father,” I remind her, firmness in my voice. “It’s mine to do with what I want, and I want you and Dred to have it. I’ve already changed the will, so arguing is pointless.” I grip the arm of the chair, caught between shock and validation. “Father will not be happy.” Meems shrugs off my concern, unbothered. “He has his own mansion, and he’s perfectly content living in it.” Her gaze turns distant as she continues, “And I won’t have him and Courtney moving in here and painting everything white, making it feel like Antarctica.” I can’t help but snort. “Their house has about as much personality as dry toast.” “That’s generous,” she replies, a soft smile playing on her lips as she reaches for my hand. “I’ve already gifted a house to your father and to each of your sisters. It’s your turn. Everything you have right now, you’ve earned on your own.” “I feel like a jerk for lying to Meems,” I confess, “but this is the happiest she’s been in years. Her approval means everything to me, and I want to preserve that however I can.” “If it will make you happy, Mildred and I will move in here.” “I want you to fill this house with the love it deserves, Connor.” The doorbell chiming interrupts us, and I check the cameras, expecting a delivery, but Mildred stands outside looking less than composed. “Mildred is here,” I announce. “I’ll be right back.” “I thought Cedrick was picking her up.” “He was. Something must have happened,” I say as I step into the hall, anxious. “I need to talk to Mildred about moving in.” “Of course.” “I’ll meet you in the living room,” I call back as I charge down the hall to speak to Mildred through the intercom. I thought I’d have more time, and now she’s here, pushing me to convince her to move in, sharpening my already frazzled nerves. “What are you doing here?” She holds up her bag, frowning. “I have the books you wanted me to bring.” “You’re early.” “My afternoon reading program was canceled due to a lice outbreak. Everly wasn’t very bummed, but Victor was. Not that it matters.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Who are Everly and Victor?” I ask, curious. “My favorite twins. Are you going to let me in, or do you want me to pick up a coffee on the way?” “No, just come up. Or I can drive down to get you.” “Don’t drive down. That’s ridiculous.” As soon as there’s enough space, she squeezes through the gate. I call Cedrick to inform him that Mildred is already here and assure him it wasn’t his fault since I hadn’t warned her of his pickup. “What flavor of cake does Mildred prefer?” he asks. “Something with strawberries, if they have it.” “I’ll see what I can do, sir.” “Thanks, Cedrick.” As I open the door for Mildred, I notice her hair sticking to her temples, her face flushed from the heat—looks like we’re in for another late-summer scorcher. “How far did you walk?” “A couple of blocks. The bus’s AC was broken. I just need five minutes out of the heat, and this will calm down.” She gestures toward her rosy complexion as she brushes past me, dropping her bag and shrugging off her cardigan, revealing a pale purple tank top that highlights her curves beautifully. I can’t tear my eyes away. She’s stunning, and the warmth of her presence makes my heart race. She fan herself with the cardigan. “I hope my sense of smell isn’t permanently damaged. A group of teenage boys doused in body spray sat next to me.” “I thought you weren’t due here for at least another hour,” I say, unable to mask the confusion in my tone. “We’ve already covered that.” “Cedrick went to get you,” I explain. “Oh, crap. Did I miss a text?” “No, I didn’t text you. I thought… it doesn’t matter.” Desire courses through me, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to pull her into my arms and breathe in the scent of her skin. I wonder what sounds she would make if I moved closer and pressed my lips to those inviting ones. But I suppress those thoughts—they feel dangerous given our arrangement. “You should probably put the cardigan back on.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “Are the girls offending you? I can’t control their volume or how proudly they present themselves.” “I didn’t mean—” “Stop while you’re ahead, Connor.” She slips her arms back into the sleeves, fastening the buttons and covering her cleavage—a move that leaves me unsettled. “Meems is excited to see you,” I mention, trying to shift attention away from our subtle tension. “Hopefully more excited than you are.” “We established that my excitement doesn’t fall within the contract, and thus far, you appear opposed to amending that,” I retort, teasing. “I can’t determine if you’re insulting or complimenting me.” “Neither, really. I was just admiring the view.” She huffs in response. “You are something else, Connor.” Following her to the living room, I watch as she and Meems exchange smiles and hugs, and the pang of jealousy stirs within me. Would she have ever hugged me if I had offered? Or would it have been out of some sense of obligation? They sit beside each other on the couch, leaving me feeling like an outsider as I take the chair across from them. “What did you bring me this week?” Meems asks, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Books two and three in the Highland Warriors series and a lovely autumn romance that fits the season,” Mildred responds, her enthusiasm evident. As their conversation flows, I fade into the background until Ethel pops in to announce that dinner will be ready shortly. “Oh, I should probably head out,” Mildred says, a hint of reluctance in her voice. “You should stay,” I interject, desperately trying to sound casual. “For dinner.” Meems squeezes her hand encouragingly. “Please do. Unless you have somewhere else you need to be.” Mildred nods. “I can stay.” I’m not entirely sure what she feels—whether she sees my invitation as an imposition or otherwise—but as she links arms with Meems, I lead them to the dining room, tucking in both their chairs before taking my own. The staff brings dinner to the table, and Mildred’s eyes widen. “This looks amazing,” she exclaims as Ethel plates her chicken, with Norm adding a rich light cream sauce. “Thank you so much.” “I’ll be sure to commend the kitchen staff,” Ethel replies, and once they finish serving us, they quietly slip out the back door. “It’s like dining in a restaurant every night,” Mildred comments, her delight palpable. “But you’re friends with the staff.” “Tonight is special with you two here.” Meems winks, her gaze shifting to me. “Have you two thought about a date for the wedding yet?” Mildred almost drops her knife, her eyes wide in surprise. “We talked about a short engagement, right, Connor?” “No reason to wait when we know what we want,” I respond, a sense of urgency beneath my words. The sooner we tie the knot, the happier Meems will be and the more challenging it will be for Mildred to find an escape route. “Wonderful to hear!” Meems beams, wiping her mouth delicately with a napkin. “You must be excited to start planning.” “Absolutely,” Mildred replies smoothly, but the tension in her voice isn’t lost on me. “I know you have wonderful friends who will support you, but if you ever need motherly advice, I’m always here,” Meems offers. Mildred’s smile glows as she reaches over to intertwine her fingers with Meems.’ “Thank you, I really appreciate the offer, Lucy.” “Meems. Please call me Meems,” she corrects softly. “Thank you, Meems.” The rest of our dinner revolves around wedding plans and laughter, a warm cocoon of camaraderie that brings everything into sharp perspective. After meals, Meems retires to the guesthouse, and I offer to drive Mildred home. “I still can’t believe Meems and I didn’t run into one another when we were in Aruba,” she says as she settles into the passenger seat, the air thick with her sweet strawberry-and-vanilla scent. “We had a private villa on the opposite end of the resort, and a staff to take care of everything,” I explain. “She also felt under the weather for the first part of our trip and mostly stayed by the pool.” “That makes sense,” she muses, pulling at the hair tie on her wrist, a nervous gesture I’ve noticed. “Is everything okay? You seem tense,” I ask, studying her closely. Being in a confined space with me may be the cause. “I need to talk to you about my apartment,” she states, her tone shifting. “What’s the issue?” My heart starts to race. “They’re evicting me at the end of the month unless I come up with the hundred thousand in back rent.” “When did you get this notice?” Suddenly her earlier comment about wanting a short engagement makes sense. “Yesterday.” “Why are you only telling me this now?” “Because I’m finally seeing you to explain, and this is the first time we’ve had privacy.” “You should have called me last night. We could have figured something out.” “I don’t particularly like asking for help,” she admits, tugging at the hair tie again, a gesture steeped in uncertainty. I know this about her, the pride she carries with her. “But you’re always willing to extend a hand to others.” “It feels good to help others, but it feels terrible to ask for it,” she confesses. “Is it because someone might hold it over your head?” I venture, knowing that’s how I’ve always felt. “In my world, favors come with strings, and some of those strings can trip you up,” she explains, snapping the hair tie. “I won’t let you lose the apartment. Send me whatever eviction notice you received; my lawyers will handle it. But it would be best if you moved into Meems’s house with me as soon as possible.” Her head snaps toward me. “I’m sorry, what?” “I’m serious. We talked about moving in together after getting married. But this plan has been expedited. Meems wants us to move in before the wedding; I found out today.” “What? I thought I’d be moving into your place, not with Meems.” I sigh, my breath exasperated. “This adjustment is what Meems wants. Trust me, the sooner we do this, the happier she will be. Plus, it simplifies everything while I deal with your landlord, especially with your eviction looming.” “What about what I want?” Her defiance sends fire coursing through me, and I grasp the steering wheel tighter, keeping my gaze ahead at the traffic lights. “You’ll get what you want when this marriage ends,” I seethe, discomfort flaring within me. “You’re unbelievable,” she murmurs, disbelief lacing her voice. “This isn’t new to you.” “Setting yourself up for the Dick of the Month award, aren’t you?” she snaps, the heat in her tone matching my own. “Looking forward to my Dick of the Year trophy when this all blows over,” I counter, frustrated. Everything spilling out of my mouth seems to land wrong. I can’t afford her anger on top of everything else. I stop at a red light, turning to her again. “You knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to this.” “Who are you, really?” she challenges. “Your worst nightmare mixed with the solution to all your problems. It’s an interesting paradox, isn’t it?” Her eyes narrow. “Where’s the Connor who attends Callie’s games, who beams for a little girl adoring him—even amidst the gossip?” The criticism hits me like a blow, biting at an already tender spot. “I’m not going to disappoint a little girl who’s already faced so much loss.” I know she’s reflecting the same struggles back at me. “What about the Connor who dressed up as an elf for Christmas to help a little girl endure another holiday without her parents?” Her words twist the dagger deeper. That was a moment of weakness; a desperate need for connection in a painful solitary existence. I don’t want to confront it. “That guy isn’t here.” “That’s bullshit, and you’re a liar.” This time she leans across the center console, stunning me as she presses her lips against my jaw. “Tell that Connor I expect to see him come out and play, whether he wants to or not. I’ll walk from here.” With that, she opens the door, slamming it shut before I can even gather my thoughts. The tumult of emotions roils inside me, leaving me clenching my fists against the steering wheel, feeling the weight of everything unraveling.