Page 63 of The Secret Hook-Up


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He steps into the row and sits with just one seat between us, then glances at the field. “Your happy place.”

“My happy place,” I agree.

Mink Arena, where the Thrusters play, is his happy place.

Full or empty.

Or it was, back when we were together. I can’t imagine that’s changed.

He’s carrying a sports drink bottle, and his complexion is holding steady as we both stare at the field.

So is his breathing.

The two of us are a mess. Me in a sling because of a dress. Him giving himself heat exhaustion for the sake of a video shoot.

I’d laugh, but instead, I suck in a slow breath, not letting myself go back to that terrifying place where he fell and then didn’t move.

Second-guessing myself as I leapt into action to check on him.

Wondering if he’d hit something wrong on one of his pads and broken a rib. If he hit his head. If my gut was right that he was overheating, or if it was something else and we needed to not move him at all.

How do you balance caring about someone with knowing that their life doesn’t fit with your life?

How do you care without caring too much?

How do you guard your own happiness when you feel like your happiness is denying someone else theirs?

Do. Not. Go. There.

I don’t owe someone else their happiness at the expense of mine.

My mother passed away not long after I graduated college, a single year after divorcing my father and stepping into living the life she’d always wanted but never put first. If it wasn’t my father making demands, it was us kids.

She chose us. She told me she never regretted what we needed.

But she wished he would’ve helped out more.

He put such a burden on her for decades.

She finally put herself first, only to trip and fall and hit her head wrong coming down the stairs in her rental house before she could live out even a fraction of her dreams.

I finish my long exhale and turn my focus back to what Idoknow.

Duncan wants to talk.

I can talk.

“What’s up?” I ask him.

“I think it’s time for me to retire.”

A sound I don’t recognize slips out of my lips.

Focus, Addie.

Focus.

Not the first time I’ve heard a player say these words. Won’t be the last.