Page 171 of Call the Shots
“June said we’ve only known each other for a couple of months, and we don’t have a real connection because of all the baggage.”
Fridge gave a heavy shrug. “Uh…okay.”
“Why’d you say ‘okay’ like that?”
“In May, you two hated each other. She might have a point.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“I’m not on anyone’s side, I’m pro-reality. How’s that?”
“You don’t get it. June could hit me with a hammer, lock me in a basement, and do someMiserypsychological shit to me, I don’t care!”
“Tell me you didn’t say that to June.”
“What am I, an idiot?” I scoffed. “She would’ve moved out.”
“Yeah…this is a little obsessive.”
“I don’t care,” I said flatly. “I don’t care that I didn’t connect with her under sparkling fucking circumstances, that doesn’t change things.” I raked a hand through my hair. “Back in North Dakota, we used to load up in someone’s truck, and I’d count the road signs on the drive, and I’d think ‘this is it?’ That was the question I couldn’t get over.This is it?”
Tallulah crept out of Fridge’s bedroom in his shirt and rested against the door frame, but I couldn’t stop.
“June and I took Montoya out to practice driving. It was after we found out the Gladiators were getting disbanded. We were going two miles an hour, and June started counting down the road signs in these funny voices to make Montoya laugh because the kid was miserable, and I thought—oh—this is it.Not a miserable question—a statement. This. Is. It. She’s it. She’s it for me.”
“Aww,” Tallulah whispered.
“If I let her go because it isn’t perfect, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I can’t do that. Even if it ends up tearing me to pieces, fuck it, I want that chance to find out. Are you going to help me or what?”
Tallulah hugged her shoulders. “Bear, that’s so?—”
“Unhealthy,” Fridge finished for her. “Bear, your last team fucked you over. This could be an unhealthy attachment for the person getting you through it.”
“I didn’t come here for a psychologist, I want to figure out how to make her fall in love with me—” I pointed at Tallulah. “I’d appreciate discretion.”
“I won’t say anything! I think it’s sweet.”
Fridge rubbed his eyes. “I can’t support this in good conscience, I’ll give you one more piece of advice and then we’re done. My therapist office is closed. Uh…because of the long distance?—”
“It won’t be long distance.”
“What? Why?”
“We have a new coach.”
Fridge stared. “We have awhat?We’re not leaving?! We’restaying?!”
“You won’t believe who they got. Anthony Sémajuste.”
“The Séma-automatic?” Fridge said in disbelief.
I caught Tallulah’s eye and explained. “Black hockey player from New York, used to be in the pros. He had a spine injury but came back to do his career-best after rehab?—”
“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Fridge snapped. “Did you tell everyone? In the lounge?!”
“I wanted to talk about June first?—”
Fridge hauled me out of the dorm. Everyone was still eating pancakes and counting money for the bet. The door to the stairs opened, Denali bounded in.
