He wraps a loose curl around his finger.
“Like combining our jersey numbers,” I tease.
“Exactly.” Cooper drops the strand, runs his finger over the number stitched into the denim. “Took you long enough to realize.”
“Why?”
“Same reason I couldn’t leave you alone. Having you hating me was easier to bare than you feeling nothing for me. Youthought I was competing with you, but I was only desperate for any attention from you.”
The intensity of his words has me clinging to his hand in mine.
Again and again, he proves in actions and words that he wants me. But I…
That day. We need to talk about it, but does it even matter anymore? Not when we are here now? I don’t blame him for my injury anymore. He said it wasn’t him who started the rumor, and I believe him…but it’s a road bump I have to pass over every day.
“And my project?”
“Selfishly, I wanted an excuse to get close to you again. But I needed it more than you or Coach knew. Today wouldn’t have been possible without you.”
“It would have.”
“On my worst days, when my mind was a rampant war, you were peace. I already found ways to tie parts of me to you, hold myself afloat. Do I think I’m in the clear? No, but you helped me find a way through. Helped me fall in love with hockey again.” He tilts his head back up to the sky, then locks eyes with me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I lick my lips. “I love you, too, Cooper. I fell in love with you when I didn’t want to. When I was refusing to face the truth and pushing you away. It’s always been you and me…and this idea that we’ll figure it out.”
“There’s always going to be something to figure out.”
“But we’ll do it together.”
FORTY-FIVE
SUTTON
The past tendays have been mayhem. Not only did the guys win the conference tournament, but the women’s team did too for the first time in program history. Between going to their games and school, I’ve been prepping for my internship interview with the Big Ten.
It’s today.
Elliot came to Chicago with me. We left first thing in the morning, giving us more than enough time to grab breakfast at our favorite cafe in the West Loop. She’s shopping now before meeting up with my sister.
Interviews are being held at Northwestern University. I thought Lakeland had an incredible campus, but wow. Their sports facilities and rec center have all been recently updated. Large, angular buildings with large windows that overlook Lake Michigan. It makes the lake our campus is on seem minuscule.
Early-afternoon sunlight reflects off the lake, sparkling through the panes of glass into the booth I’m sitting at in the lobby. It’s cool out today, barely sixty degrees with a breeze, but in the sunlight, I’m sweating.
Or maybe that’s my nerves.
Most of the students who are interviewing today have been studying for three years. They’ve wanted to be a psychologist probably since it was career day in third grade. No one probably took a nasty hit and a skate to the thigh on their path to getting here.
I shift against the purple vinyl, a bead of sweat dripping down my back. I shuffle the flash cards, start at the top again with my talking points and potential answers to questions.
A trio of girls walks past me, all wearing loose fighting trousers and blouses. They’re chatting about the other internships they applied for and graduate programs they started applications for.
For a split second, I find myself too far out of my league—and highly underdressed. I’m in a tan tartan skirt with a pressed white button-down shirt tucked into it. Slipped over top with the collar sticking out is a navy knit sweater. Elliot tried to convince me to wear navy tights and borrow her navy knee-high leather boots, but I opted for a pair of white ruffled mid-calf socks and a heeled loafer. My hair is pulled back with a navy clip.
I let Elliot do my makeup in the car. Simple, clean, and as she says, understated.
I smooth out my skirt. Take a deep breath.
You’ve got this, Sutton.
