Always Only You by Chloe Liese (z-lib.org).epub

table. Clean lines, the expansive kitchen, and then to the right, the comically big
sectional sofa. Noise centers in the kitchen filled entirely with women, bringing
me to a nervous stop.
Elin glances over at me. “We don’t normally divide like this, but they all just
finished a football game, and while the women were ready for a cocktail, the
men didn’t want to stop playing. Why don’t you join us? We’re just making
drinks now.”
I smile nervously at Ren over my shoulder. Ren smiles softly back.
“Frankie!” Willa jumps up from her stool and gives me a hug. “You just
missed a massacre. We kicked their butts, didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did,” Ziggy says, a soft smile brightening her face. She opens her
arms first, so I know it’s okay for me to step into them.
“Happy birthday, Ziggy,” I whisper. As I step back, I set a wrapped package
in her hands.
“What is it?” she asks.
“Open it.”
Ziggy drops it on the counter, tears off the paper. She squeals. “It just came
out! Mom, Frankie got me Book Six! Oh my gosh.”
When we last talked, Ziggy told me about this fantasy romance series she
was tearing through, so I got her the next in the series, which just came out last
week. Jumping up and down, she lunges herself at me and hugs me hard. “Thank
you so much.”
I hug her back. “You’re welcome, Ziggy.”
Sighing happily, she clutches it to her chest. “Oh! And did you see I’m
wearing the clothes we ordered? Just changed into them from my soccer stuff.”
I give her a once-over. Black leggings that fit down to her ankles. An
emerald-green T-shirt that matches her eyes. “You look great, Ziggy.”
She blushes bright pink. “Thanks. It’s so comfy.”
“Good.” I squeeze her arm gently, before turning to Freya, who I’ve only
met once before. She’s almost her mother’s copy. Sharp, striking features. Pale
eyes, wavy white-blonde hair worn just past her chin.
“Hi.” I offer my hand. “I’m Frankie.”
“I remember,” she says. “Freya.” Her voice is smoky, and while I can’t read
her expression, her voice seems tinged with sadness. She shakes my hand gently,
not squeezing, which isn’t surprising. She’s a physical therapist, Ren said. She’d
know to take it easy. “It’s nice to finally meet you, not just wave hi in the
stadium.”
“Arena,” Ziggy corrects.
Freya waves it off. “Whatever. We’re a soccer family.” She smiles at me.