Page 72 of Changing the Game

“Mom, it’s tomorrow. Even if I did want to, I doubt we’d be able to get a ticket.” I’m not sure why my mom has been so insistent on trying to get me to fly home. Coach and Declan are already in Houston for a game tomorrow, and Aiden has a game in Boston. It’s not like we can all be together. Not this year anyway.

I’m FaceTiming with my mom on my balcony because my bed is covered in scraps of lace and silk. A bolt of black jersey cotton is thrown across the foot of it, while I try to figure out a design to make comfort sexier.

I’m over keeping Le Désir quiet.

Chloe and I can barely keep up with our orders as it is.

Not telling her really doesn’t make sense anymore.

I’m not sure it ever truly did.

But my plan for this conversation is getting hijacked.

“I really can’t,” I say. “I’ve got so much work to get through, I just can’t get away. Plus, I scheduled that doctor’s appointment you’ve been bugging me to make, and it’s Friday afternoon. I don’t want to have to reschedule.”

“Honey, don’t you have a holiday break or something? A few days? You’ve been working so hard. Every time I call, you’re telling me how busy you are. I understand you not being able to come home, but I feel like you’re working yourself too hard.”

I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment, willing away the headache building at the back of my skull. Then I open them and look at my beautiful mother. She’ll support me. She has to.I think.

“Here’s the thing, Mom.” I step into my bedroom and look at the stunning blue set I’m currently working on that’s resting on my dress form. I’ve got to do this. “School work keeps me pretty busy, but Chloe and I kinda started a business last year, and we’ve doubled in size over the past twelve months. Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s more than doubled, but she’s the numbers girl. I’m so busy that even if I could clone myself, I’d still be busy.”

Okay, so that was the chickenshit way of tearing off the Band-Aid, but it was better than nothing.

“A business?” Mom’s big green eyes tear up as a giant smile stretches across her face. “Honey... I’m so proud of you. What kind of business? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her face transforms, and she gasps, “Carys Catrina Murphy, you’re not selling drugs, are you? I mean, you’ve lost so much weight. You can’t be doing drugs.” Her face contorts. “Or stripping? Carys, please tell me you’re not stripping.”

“Mom.” I come by my slightly overdramatic nature honestly. My mother is the queen. And she’s spiraling. “Mom... I’m not stripping or dealing drugs. And what the hell? Did you actually just ask me if I was doing drugs too? It’s a business, Mom. We’re designing and selling beautiful, luxury lingerie.”

Her jaw unhinges so much, it looks unnatural. “Why the hell would you keep that from me?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to see what happened with it, and if we were going to keep going before I told you about it. I mean, I pushed to come out here and major in vocal performance, and then I changed my major before the end of my first semester.” I sit down on my bed and run my hand through the silk swatches. “I think I was worried you’d think it was stupid and tell me I shouldn’t give up singing.”

“Carys, only you can decide what you want to do with your life. As long as you’re not hurting yourself or anyone else, I’ll always support you.” I hate that I doubted her. “You don’t ever have to keep anything from me.”

Guilt tugs at me because I have no intention of telling her everything.

This is the only thing I’m willing to share for now.

“Now, show me some of your designs,” Mom orders, as if it were nothing at all, and I relax, knowing that’s one less thing to worry about.

* * *

I must have dozed off because my bedroom is dark when Theo’s voice drags me out of my dream. And damn, it was a good dream. Cooper’s shampoo still lingers in my mind, but that’s all it is. A memory.

Theo pushes through my mostly open door, then leans against the frame. “CC, you coming down for dinner? I picked up Chinese food.” Jack, Emerson and Linc drove up the coast to spend Thanksgiving with Stone. They asked if Theo and I wanted to go to, but we passed. I completely forgot he was grabbing us dinner tonight.

I sit up quickly but immediately lie back down as the room spins around me, suddenly feeling nauseous. “Whoa...”

Theo runs in. “Hey, you okay?”

“No.” I close my eyes and breathe through the nausea. “I’m not okay.”

“What’s wrong? What can I do?”

The poor guy has concern washing off him in fat waves, but I can’t worry about that as I run to the bathroom and throw up what little I’ve had to eat today, then dry heave when my body decides it’s not done, even though there’s nothing left.

Theo follows behind me and gathers my hair, holding it back from my face and out of the way while my body retches. Eventually, when I finally feel like I have nothing left, I lie down on the floor and thank God for my obsessive need to clean when I’m stressed because my bathroom is spotless. Definitely clean enough to lie down in. And right now, the cold tile floor against my overheated face is the only thing that feels good.

“Hey, Carys.” Theo places a cool, damp rag on my forehead, then gently pushes my hair back. “You feel really hot.”

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