Page 69 of Play the Last Track
“So why the tears?”
“I have no idea. I think maybe I’m realizing I wasted four years on a guy who never bothered to learn a thing about me, and within a couple of months, Flynn has learned it all. He got the good bagels, Ivy.”
Her eyes widen, and she laughs. “Oh my god! I knew he wasn’t asking for no reason. A few weeks ago, when you guys came roundfor wedding planning and football, he was bombarding me about all your favorite foods. Said he just wanted to make sure you had things that felt like home.”
“Yeah, well”—I swipe my sleeve under my eyes again—“he remembered. All of it.”
“He’s a simp for you, Katie. I’d say even maybe worse than Scott.”
I scoff and roll my eyes, pinning her with a look. “No one is worse than Scott.”
Flynn
I toss in the sheets for the fifth time, rolling over to check the clock on my phone again. Almost midnight. Fuck, it’s late. I’m going to be wrecked tomorrow if I don’t get some sleep. A text pops up on my phone, just as I tap the screen again.
Katie:Thank you for the popcorn. And the Nutella. And the bagels.
Katie:Don’t forget to win for me tomorrow.
I smile, snatching the phone off my nightstand and hitting the call button on her contact. She answers halfway through the first dial tone.
“Hello?” she whispers.
“Hey, you,” I rasp, my throat scratchy after a few hours of not speaking. Scott and I called it an early night, eating with the boys, but not staying for the FIFA tournament they wanted to start in Cooper’s room.
“What are you still doing awake?”
“I can’t sleep,” I tell her, pressing the phone to my ear and rolling onto my back. The room is pitch black except for the light from the screen, and I can’t see a single thing. “Can you talk? Why are you whispering?”
“Hang on.” I hear the rustle of covers and the quiet click of a door before she says, “Okay, now I can talk.”
“Where were you?”
“In the guest room, with Ivy.”
“You were sleeping with Ivy?”
“Duh, it’s a sleepover.”
“But you don’t sleep in the guest room anymore,” I say. This only makes her laugh.
“I know, but I thought it would be weird if we slept in your bed.”
I pause. “Why would it be weird?”
“I don’t know, it just would be.”
I listen again as I hear sheets rustling. “What are you doing now?”
“Getting into your bed, Reed. Happy now?”
“Very much so.” I smile into the darkness. “You should stay there. I like knowing you sleep in my bed even when I’m away.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you never, ever make the bed. You’re messy, Murphy. You leave evidence behind you wherever you go.” She laughs, and the speaker muffles for a moment. I imagine her burrowing into my sheets, warming herself up under the heavy cover that she always accuses me of stealing.
“I won’t change my ways. I haven’t in twenty-six years, and I won’t now.”
