me and lifts me from under my arms. My feet kick wildly as I laugh.
“I have never seen anyone so excited over a forty-two,” June jokes, waiting to high five me the minute Lucas puts me down.
I get another high five from Hayden, and I move to the back seats where Tory is sitting, hoping he’ll have some sort of reaction. He’s on his phone, the device pressed to his ear. His eyes flit up, never fully meeting mine, and he holds up a finger as he stands and walks around the counter to the stools he was hiding on for half the game.
“You guys wanna go again?” Hayden stands with one knee on the seat at the computer. I glance to June who nods.
“I’m in,” Lucas says.
We all turn our focus to Tory, waiting while he finishes his call. He holds his phone in his palm for a second, staring at the blank screen before acknowledging us.
“Hey, sorry guys. I’m out. Cannon is coming by to get me, but we’ll catch up more. Yeah?” His gaze swings to me, his eyes finally reaching mine.
“Sure,” I rasp.
A polite smile barely makes a dent in his face and he holds up a hand, moving on to our other friends, who all seem as dismissed and offended as I am.
Tory swaps out his footwear and carries the bowling shoes to the counter before heading out the exit. My friends hold their tongues until he leaves, doling out theories over why he might be upset as soon as he’s gone.
None of them are right, and I know they’re not, but I listen with feigned concern and continue to indulge their theories throughout our next game. Lucas and June leave after we enjoy a round of wings, on the house because Morty, the alley’s manager, says I’m the biggest star to ever come out of Allensville. Not quite ready to go home, I wander over to the pool tables and lift a cue in challenge to Hayden. Truth be told, for once I might need him to listen.
“I’m pretty bad at pool,” he says, taking the stick and helping me rack the balls.
“I’m not that great, either. It should be a real duel,” I say.
He simpers at me and takes the cue ball in his palm, setting it on the felt and offering for me to break. I bend, looking the part, and run the stick through my fingers like a violinist uses a bow. My results aren’t nearly as impressive as I don’t hit the ball squarely, sending it immediately off to the side and into a corner pocket.
“Mulligan?” I arch a brow.
Hayden laughs, pulling the ball out and rolling it to me.
“Sure.”
My second attempt is a little better, scattering the balls around the table but not sinking a single one. Hayden walks around, eyeing different angles, but before he lines up what I think is his best shot, he stands up tall and sets his stick down flat, his palms on the table’s edge.
“Tory’s in love with you.”
I blink, frozen by his words. I’m not even sure I heard them right. And I can’t tell by his expression whether he’s guessing or saying something backed by fact.
“I’m sorry, what?” I shake my head and squint my eyes.
“He told me. Right after you left, after the awesome therapy session I told you about that first time we talked when you were in Toronto.”
“Tory . . . said he’s in love with me.” I repeat the words, still not believing them. Not that I think it’s impossible, I just know what Tory said before I left. How deeply he cares about his relationship with Hayden. And also, how little credit he gives the idea of love. About as much as I do.
Hayden takes one of the balls in his hand and rolls it against the felt, ricocheting it off the bumper and back into his hand. Our game is done. That’s fine; it was only an excuse anyhow.
“Look, Abby . . .” He rolls the ball again, but I cut it off before it makes it to his hand this time, catching it in my own. His gaze lifts to meet mine and he exhales. “Tory is in love with you. He told me, and I know he’s not going to do anything about it. I can’t let that happen. Me and him . . . we’re in a good place.”