Page 102 of Game Misconduct

thirty-nine

. . .

Bex

“I missed you, boo,” Elsy says when the video chat connects.

“Missed you, too.”

My sister-in-law sighs. “How’s the patient?”

Terrible.

I ran into the office to file some paperwork, but as soon as I’m done here, I’ll be back at his place.

“It’s rough,” I finally tell her. “I don’t like seeing him like this.”

“He hasn’t answered any of my calls.”

“Phones are hard. Screens give him headaches.” It’s not funny, yet I still huff out a breath of laughter. “He’s literally staring at the ceiling all day. It can’t be fun for him.”

“No, I don’t imagine it is.”

The pain in her voice makes my heart pang. I feel the same way. We both love him—in different ways, of course—and it’s agonizing to see someone I care about in so much pain.

“It was different when it was just Wyatt,” I admit. “Not that I don’t love my brother. He’s half the reason I went into this field to begin with. But now that it’s Nick…”

“It’s real,” Elsy murmurs. “It’s real in a way it never was before.”

“I love him.”

Her eyes widen. “Bex⁠—”

“I love him, and I haven’t told him yet,” I blurt. “So don’t say anything.”

She crosses an X over her heart. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Fuck, I adore you.” We’ve been friends since grad school, and despite her moving to Austin, we’ve only grown closer since she got together with Wyatt. “I can’t wait until our trip out there next month.”

“We’ll have to make the most of it,” Elsy says. “I know you have to work during the game, but hopefully we can steal away just the two of us for a bit.”

It’s easy to get swept up in the men in our lives and forget our friendship that bonded us together. From a random roommate listing, to living together in two separate cities, and now to being family… There’s nobody else I’d rather be doing this life with.

“Okay, so tell me what else is new,” I say, settling into my desk chair. “How is the symphony? Do you have any exciting performances coming up?”

She launches into catching me up, and we chat for the better part of forty-five minutes until all my paperwork is done and her lunch break between students is over.

“We need to do this again soon,” she says. “Let’s check our calendars and put some catch-up dates on the schedule. I miss talking to you.”

“Definitely.”

We arrange to chat again next Thursday, and again the following Friday, before we hang up. I’m disconnecting my laptop and stuffing it into my bag when the sensor on the door chimes, and Annaliese enters our shared office.

She stops in her tracks at the sight of me.

“I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Just getting a few things taken care of.”