Tomboy (The Hartigans #3)(70)

He clapped his hand down on Stuckey’s shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, well we need to win to make that happen.”

It was a simple solution, if not the easiest one, but what good things in life ever were. “So we win.”

Now, if it were only that simple when it came to figuring out what to do about Fallon.

…

Fallon couldn’t even watch the replay of the game. Sure, it was still on, but she’d tossed a blanket over the living room TV. They’d suffered five losses in a row since the news about Zach’s parents had hit, she’d come to his defense, and he’d gotten (rightfully, she could sorta admit) pissed at her for breaking his trust. She’d watched the most recent game as if the big screen was a radio while eating chocolate chip cookie dough straight from the plastic wrap (the CDC could kiss her ass with their warnings about eating uncooked food).

A buzzer blared on the TV. “And that’s another loss for the Ice Knights, who just can’t seem to get it together.”

Fallon flipped off the TV as she powered it down via remote then settled back on the couch, bringing her comforter tighter around her. It still smelled like him—warm and kinda woodsy with a strong whiff of I-will-fuck-your-brains-out-and-you-will-love it. She needed to wash it. She would. Tomorrow. Tonight was for cookie dough and loneliness. If she were ever to start an emo jazz band, Cookie Dough and Loneliness would definitely be the name of it.

Finn walked into the living room carrying his on-duty bag because he was covering the second half of a shift for one of the other guys. “You finally have an entire weekend off, and this is what you’re gonna do?”

She flipped him off. “You’re my brother, not the boss of me.”

“Thank you for that deep dive back to middle school.” He plucked the tube of cookie dough from her grasp. “If you eat this entire thing you’ll die.”

“If you don’t give it back,” she said, reaching while he held it way higher than her arm span, “I’ll smother you in your sleep.”

“Relax, Fallon. I’m smarter than to try to get in your way.” He tweaked her on the nose, handed back her cookie dough, and gave her a pitying look. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“Nah, I’m not really planning on moving for the weekend. I’ll still be here when you get off of your shift.”

Alone. She’d be doing it all alone, was the unsaid part of that answer. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she sniffled before pinching off another piece of cookie dough and eating it.

“Wow.” Finn’s eyebrows went up. “And I thought rooming with Frankie had been questionable.”

Ignoring that dig, she took another deep inhale of her comforter and settled down for another night of chest-aching misery. Finn just shook his head at her and made his way to the door to go to work. As soon as he opened it, she heard three very familiar voices say hello, followed by a “bye, Finn.”

Then, Tess, Lucy, and Gina walked into the living room armed with grocery bags. They took one look at her and did a group grimace.

“Oh, honey,” Tess said. “You’ve got it bad. You tried to do your makeup.”

One sympathetic group hug later, it was down to business.

“We come armed with liquor, ice cream, and movies,” Gina said, flopping down onto the couch beside Fallon. “Tonight’s selection includes Wonder Woman, Rogue One, and The Silence of the Lambs. What kind of kick-ass heroine are you in the mood for? One who kicks ass and lives, one who kicks ass and dies, or one who kicks ass and becomes a serial killer’s best friend?” She glanced over at the blanket-covered TV and then back at Fallon with a huh-so-that’s-how-it’s-been look. “We’ll have to take that off.”

If Fallon wasn’t ready to cry before, she was now. Her girls were here, not because she’d asked, but because they knew she needed them. She really did have the best friends in the world. She was about to tell them that when her mom walked in.

“I came as soon as Finn texted.” Her mom took one look around the room, her focus settling on Fallon. “Are you wearing eyeliner? On only one eye?”

“My other eye kept itching, and I must have rubbed it off.” Okay, she had cried it off as she was trying to apply it, but no one needed to know that.

Tess’s eyes rounded, and she sat down in the chair closest to Fallon’s spot on the couch. “Oh, this is serious.”

“It’s not serious,” she said as they all looked at her like she had three heads instead of one broken heart. “It was just an impulse buy at the drug store when I stopped in and got the cookie dough.”

Gina reached over and snagged a pinch of cookie dough. “You never wear eyeliner.”

“And now we know why,” Lucy said.

Her mom made a tut-tut sound and sat down on the coffee table in front of Fallon. “I’m not buying that, young lady. Tell me everything, and Lucy, please make me a Jack and Coke—a double.”

Where was she supposed to start? They already knew all the horrible details of the fight with Zach (thank God for group texts that eliminated the need to have the same horrible conversation multiple times). Today, she’d gotten off of work, stopped by the drug store, and scrolled Ice Knights news while she was standing in the world’s longest line. That had been a mistake. The ache in her chest combined with her crying-induced stuffed-up nose didn’t do a lot for clarifying her thought process.