Nervously, I swallow, recalling where those hands were last night…where they were this morning. Heat rises to my cheeks, despite the chill of the arena air.
Jack’s smirk grows into a full-bodied grin.
How can I say no to a face like that?
“While that’s a tempting offer, maybe I don’t want to risk making him fall.”
“Too late for that.” He winks.
My heart somersaults in my chest, and warmth blooms through the acrobatics.
When Jack says sweet stuff like that, it’s so easy for me to give in to my foolish side and think that we could be on the precipice of one of those great love stories I’ve only ever read or dreamed about.
But hope has never been my friend, and I don’t know how to get myself to a place where I can trust it even if there’s a certainty in my chest that says I should.
“I’m sorry. What was that impossibly corny line?” I laugh, deflecting the battle between my head and heart into humor.
“Forget I asked.” He rolls his eyes like he’s annoyed. But the blush coloring his cheeks betrays him.
Dang it, I should have let the part of me that was swooning out instead.
“I’m an eight,” I say, trying to make amends for my poorly timed ribbing. “But I’m worried I’ll pull you down.”
I don’t know if I’m talking about on the ice or something grander here. Jack doesn’t belong in Chawton Falls forever, and when he’s back in the world of professional sports, he isn’t going to want a small-town nobody holding him back.
“You never would,” he says, almost like he knows I need the reassurance and skates away.
At that moment, the pain shooting on and off through my right side intensifies. I gasp as cold sweat beads on my forehead. My lower half seizes, and I close my eyes and shift on the bench, hoping to find a position to ease the pain.
Nothing helps, and I sit there for what seems like an eternity in agony without an escape.
“Dessy. You okay?”
My eyes flutter open. Jack greets me with his signature furrowed eyebrow look.
“Yeah, fine.” My eyes travel to the white skates draped over his shoulder, and I groan. “If I fall, please just release me. I won’t be responsible for re-injuring the star player of the Brawling Badgers.” The sharp pang continues in my side. Maybe standing will help since sitting clearly isn’t the answer.
“I have two hundred and thirty-pound men hurling themselves at me regularly. You’re not going to take me down. It’ll be fine,” Jack says, offering me his hand as I rise.
A rush of nausea overwhelms me.
“I just need to use the restroom before I put my skates on,” I say, steadying my legs as the world around me swirls.Play it cool. Please don’t make him worry for nothing. You’re fine.
After I clear the corner and find myself out of Jack’s line of vision, I hurry and bust through the bathroom door, grateful the arena is empty and I don’t have to worry about breaking someone’s nose in my haste.
I don’t even bother closing the stall before my head is in the toilet and release the contents of my stomach.
My overdramatic body is getting old.
I grab the toothbrush I keep in my purse for these situations. Emy thinks it’s weird I need one, but it’s happened enough that I wouldn’t dare go anywhere without it.
Something is wrong if you’re vomiting that much in public, Aulie,she would argue while I’d wave her off. My doctors were confident that my constipation was causing severe acid reflux, and who am I to question them?
I splash water on my face before another pain comes through, and I brace both hands on the counter, breathing through the overwhelming stabs.
Keep pushing. It’s all in your head. You’re fine. Just skate it off. What choice do you have, anyway?I try to give myself a pep talk, but the pain seems immune to the power of positive thought.
How annoying.
