Page 158 of Made Better Together

“Hi, Milo. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” His voice is clipped, and my antennae go up quickly. “Where are you?”

“I’m, uh⁠—”

He sighs. “Never mind. I know.” He knows…what? Shit.

“Okay.” As noncommittal as I can get.

“A picture was posted on a big soccer blog of you and Eden. Have you seen it?”

Oh fuck. This is not good. “No.”

“Well, it makes certain things clear. I suggest you go look at it. I need you in my office at eight-thirty tomorrow. Can you make that work with the Waves?”

Tomorrow is Tuesday, our normal off day, so we don’t have practice. “Yes. Yes…”

“See you then.” He hangs up.

I slouch in the seat and immediately open an internet browser. It takes a few tries of creative word searches, but I eventually find the picture.

I’m holding Eden tightly, with our lips locked, as she leans against me in her gear.

The picture’s completely unambiguous.

I need to reach her…

BUZZ.

EDEN: Hi, a post went up that includes a picture of us kissing. I’ve limited the damage, but long story short, Tina saw it, and I’m going to have to tell Dad. We can talk more in the morning?

I shut my eyes. Del is going to know too? Fuck. Another relationship I might have screwed up.

I don’t want Eden to worry about that, though. He’s her dad, so whatever she decides to share with him, I’ll support. Instead, I tell her about Milo’s request.

CONNOR: I’m not going to be back until late, so I’ll call you after I meet with Milo.

EDEN: Okay, drive safe. We’ll figure it out.

CONNOR: You were incredible today. Don’t let this ruin it.

EDEN: It won’t.

CONNOR: Text me when you’re home, just so I know you’re safe.

The next morning, I walk into Milo’s office sick to my stomach.

My brain is screaming to run, lie, avoid—but I can’t do that.

I can’t do it to Milo, and I can’t do it to Grace. He’s supported me through the Waves process, made the postseason job offer. And my sister put herself out for me to be here. It’s her livelihood. Milo is her boss.

I can’t lie anymore, and I can’t hide. I’ve fucked up so bad. While Eden may be worth it, there are going to be consequences.

Because something tells me this will not go as easily with Milo as the Waves tryout situation six weeks ago.

He reinforces this as soon as I walk in. “Sit down.” Crisp, cold.

“Thanks for…meeting me.” Maybe I should have rehearsed more, but if I’m going to stop lying, to stop holding these secrets, perfecting a turn of words won’t matter.