Page 6 of If You Claim Me
“Oh please. They sound fun.”
“So fun.” I settle in and do my best to ignore the feel of Connor’s eyes on me as I read. Lucy is fast asleep by the end of the first chapter.
I tuck her book ribbon between the pages. “Will she be out long?”
“She might be done for the evening. I’ll move her to her bedif she doesn’t wake up.” Connor carefully adjusts the footrest and reclines the chair, tucking a pillow by her cheek so she doesn’t get a neck crick. He kisses her temple and guides me out of the room.
I take one last look at her before I go. I adore Lucy. We’ve grown close—closer than I realized maybe. Our time together always feels special, and it fills a selfish need for a maternal connection.
Our conversations have mostly revolved around books, the library programs, and sometimes her late husband. Occasionally, we’ve veered into personal pieces of our lives, but neither of us has ever spoken of our connection to the Terror. I’m intensely protective of my friendship with Flip, just like she’s protective of her grandson.
I wait until Connor and I are halfway down the hall before I ask the question that’s been eating at me. “How did Lucy’s appointment go today?”
He stops just before we reach the stairs and turns to me. “She needs surgery.”
“What kind?”
“The kind that could keep her here for another decade.” He rubs his bottom lip with his manicured fingers. “But right now she’s not strong enough to survive it, and the doctor is concerned she might never be.”
Pain lances my heart. “What does that mean?”
His jaw tics, but his eyes remain on mine. “She needs a heart valve replacement. If she can’t have the surgery, I could lose her inside a year.”
The truth is sandpaper rubbed across raw skin. There’s an answer to his problem, a way to keep Lucy here, but it’s out of reach. That’s almost more than I can bear. Maybe because my world is falling apart, and I already stand to lose so much if I can’t figure out what to do about my apartment. Maybe because I sense how devastated Connor is by the prospect. Maybe because I’ve come to see Lucy like the grandmother I never had.
I reach out and cover his wide palm with mine, his fingers flex, but he doesn’t pull away. “I’m so sorry.” Emotions rain down on me, and tears well up—for making my emotions his to deal with, for his pain, for my own.
He looks at me strangely. “You didn’t make her heart weak.”
I withdraw my hand and rummage in my bag for a tissue, still on the verge of tears. This is his loss, not mine.Then why does it hurt so much?
“I should go.” I finally find the tissue I was looking for, but with it comes a piece of paper.
It unfolds as it flutters to the ground, and Connor scoops it up before I can. His brows pull together as he scans the document—the one from my landlord.
“You’re in trouble.” It’s a statement, not a question.
I grab the letter and stuff it back in my purse. “It’s a misunderstanding. I’ll figure it out.” I rush down the spiral staircase, wishing a fairy godmother would appear, wave her magic wand, and fix my problem.
It seems all gifts come with a price.
CHAPTER 3
CONNOR
Iconnected the dots a while ago that Meems’s favorite librarian was the woman I sit next to at Callie’s games. But I kept that to myself until recently, mostly because it meant I had an unguarded, unfiltered view of Mildred through my grandmother’s eyes.
My palms dampen as I enter the arena. I keep trying to shove Mildred back into the neat little box labeledmy enemy’s best friend who I sit beside at Callie’s games, but yesterday she stepped out of it, and now I can’t get it closed.
Because on top of how sweet she is with Callie, I saw the way she was with Meems. They care for each other, and I witnessed how much it hurt Mildred to find out I could lose Meems—thatwecould lose her.
I watched Flip at practice today for signs of stress. Mildred is his best friend—maybe more, but I’ve never seen evidence to prove that. He was his usual self at practice, focused, no signs of worry, no compulsive phone checking in the locker room. Which begs the question: Does he know she’s in trouble? And if not, why?
The kids are already on the ice and Callie is in net. I scan the seats and spot Mildred, my heart rate spiking as I head in herdirection. She’s sitting in the front row, wearing a team toque, bundled in a winter jacket. There’s a smile on her beautiful face as she adjusts her glasses. She hasn’t noticed me yet. Neither have the team moms a few rows back.
“He’s usually here by now,” one of the moms says as I enter hearing range.
“Maybe he’s not coming.”
