Page 67 of Golden Goal

"How was your day?" he asks.

"Fine," I respond, aiming for a neutral tone since my throat feels raw from all the crying. "How was yours?"

"Mine was good," Lincoln responds cautiously. "Are you sure everything is alright?"

A sudden dread washes over me at the thought of telling Lincoln about what happened. My emotions hit me like a tidal wave. "Yes," I choke out on a broken breath, my voice betraying the tears I thought I'd exhausted.

"Woah, what's wrong?" Lincoln's concern is palpable.

"I don't want to talk about it," I whimper, hoping to avoid revisiting the painful details.

"You don't have to," Lincoln assures me gently. "Where are you right now?"

"In my room," I reply, my voice still shaky.

"By yourself?"

I confirm, "Yes." Who else would I be with?

Lincoln begins suggesting solutions to my predicament. "Are you home alone? Can you go to Leia's house?"

"Yes, I'm alone. Leia's leaving on vacation with her family tomorrow morning and will be gone for a week," I explain.

Lincoln's voice fills with concern. "Your brother?"

"He has a game tomorrow," I answer, attempting to reassure him.

"Fuck," he curses. "In California, right? I remember that now."

I try to alleviate his worries. "Don't worry about it. I'm going to be fine, but for tonight, I'm just going to be sad." My words hang in the air, and I realize it might not have been the best thing to say. "Maybe the next few nights, too..."

Lincoln cuts me off. "Come visit me."

My immediate response is firm. "No."

"Yes," he insists with determination.

"I don't want to intrude on you and your family," I reply, feeling hesitant about the idea.

Lincoln laughs, lightening the mood, but then his tone turns more serious. "Ronan has already intruded. I want you here. Please?"

I can't help but wonder if he truly wants my chaotic self in his family home, interacting with his family. Lincoln has a lot of faith in me.

I draw a deep breath and gaze up at my ceiling, contemplating the pros and cons. There are a few cons, primarily the possibility of embarrassing myself in front of his parents. However, I make a decision swiftly, preventing myself from overthinking the situation. "Okay, yeah. I can come."

"Fuck yeah, sweetheart. That's what I wanted to hear," he cheers, his enthusiasm palpable, then transitions back to a more pleading tone. "I wish you would tell me what happened."

"My parents didn't show up," I admit, my voice cracking and making me sound even more pitiful. I take a calming breath before continuing. "They promised to be here tonight but never showed up."

Restlessness overtakes me, and I stand up, disrupting my newfound comfort, and start pacing around. Out of the blue, I feel reenergized, opening and closing my closet door aimlessly because it feels like I should be doing something, even though there's nothing to do.

I need a hobby.

"Goddamnit. I know I don't have any right to say this, but fuck your parents," he exclaims, frustration etched across his face. He pauses, taking a deep breath before steering the conversation in a different direction. "So, when do you want to come? Tonight?"

I take a moment to appear thoughtful, as if I'm consulting an internal calendar to ensure I have a clear schedule for the rest of winter break. Once enough time has elapsed, I reply, "I guess I can come tomorrow if that's okay with you?"

My response seems less enthusiastic than I intend, and he quickly adds, "I'm sorry. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

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