Page 85 of Connor's Claim
A white piece of paper waited on my bedside table when I woke from a nap, and I stretched to collect it, my eyes still bleary from sleep.
MISS ME, it read.
I would, I did, endlessly. After Connor’s stabby show and tell, he’d thrown himself into work. Maybe conveniently avoiding me, too. Whenever I tried to talk to him, he found an excuse to be somewhere else. That didn’t stop him from being inside me at every opportunity, and last night, he’d sedated me again. I’d dozed much of the day while he’d slept, and now he’d left again.
Still without giving me the time to talk to him.
I folded the paper, determination filling me.
Today was Friday, game day. I was going to remain conscious throughout. Whether he liked it or not, we were going to have this conversation.
Leaving our bed, I showered and dressed in a lavender-blue gym set, worked through my yoga routine, then ate granolawhile I scanned the local headlines. The latter was something I did every day at work, except it was two PM and I was still on sick leave, trying not to think about my job.
The mayoral admin team would manage for a week without me, but longer than that and they’d flounder. The next most senior staff member, Jeff, panicked over anything too stressful. He wasn’t ready to take over from me, even if I decided to quit.
Had I decided that?
I took a deep inhale and focused on the headlines, pushing away thoughts of work until I was ready with a solution.
More information had been released on the latest murder, and I copied the link for Genevieve and Cassie. For convenience, I made a chat group for us, titling it ‘The Skeleton Girls Detective Agency’ then pasted in the article.
Almost immediately, someone was typing back.
Genevieve: I’m finishing up a lecture, then I can read this.
Cassie: Intel! I just woke up but I’m all over it.
Cassie: Love the group name. Can we get stickers made?
With a grin, I cleared away my very late breakfast things, then had another idea and typed a message to Connor, asking if he minded me inviting the two women up to the apartment.
Connor: It’s your home, too. Have your friends over whenever you like.
Another reply came in hot on its heels.
Connor: Just don’t let Cassie touch my knives.
I sent him a heart emoji then wrote to my group.
Everly: Would you both like to come to my apartment this afternoon? I’ll make snacks and coffee, then we can talk all things murder.
Two enthusiastic responses came back immediately, and I got a bolt of happiness at having a friendship group for the first time since school. I’d asked and they’d said yes—a lesson for the day. I needed to take action, in multiple areas of my life.
A couple of hours later, both women arrived, Genevieve coming straight from university with a satchel over her shoulder, and Cassie in a thick hoodie with her hair peeking from the hood. Bleary-eyed, she explained that she’d gone back to sleep after my message having worked until five AM at a bar downstairs.
She kicked off her shoes then padded over to gaze out the window. “People are already queueing outside. Pervy fuckers. Ye should have heard the chatter about the game last night. They are all so desperate to watch a group of women get hunted.”
Genevieve joined me at the counter, nodding enthusiastically at my offer of an iced coffee. “This is a real money-spinner for the club. They sell bedrooms with live stream access to cameras in the basement, and those go for wild sums of money. Like, life-changing amounts that the club uses for all kinds of good purposes. Arran and I are going to make a statement later about our participation and how successful it was.”
I goggled at her. “Is that necessary?”
“He’s the organiser. It’s expected of him, and honestly, I don’t mind. Everyone who’s going to be there already watched us have sex for the first time. Guaranteeing to them that wecontinue to do so and are now planning the rest of our lives together seems kinda pale in comparison.”
She accepted her coffee, and I admired her bravery. She’d gone into Arran’s game by accident but had come out stronger for her ordeal. Even after, she hadn’t let the club consume her. She was doing her own thing with her degree.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve messaged Riordan to make sure he doesn’t watch, just in case. I wouldn’t want to traumatise him.” Her gaze slid over me. “He’s a decent man, our brother. He can be quiet and disappear off the radar, but I’ve learned that’s because he’s tackling problems on his own. He doesn’t share his stress. Like, ever. He keeps it all to himself and handles it alone.”
I nodded, clinging to the information. “I’ve started making a list of all the things he’ll need to know about being related to my father. Family health history, that kind of thing. Sorry if that’s awkward.”