I snort wetly. “Of course he is.”
“Oh, Lance texted just now.No pity, only mad respect. We’ll see you when you’re ready.”
“Fuck, Ivy, these messages are killing me,” I say through tears.
“It’ll be okay. Take it one day at a time.”
Her words are a simple reminder, but somehow they’re enough. I grip her hand a little tighter, drawing strength from the touch. For now, that’s all I can ask for to get through the recovery.
9
IVY
DECEMBER 9
The treadmill is my reset button. No matter how long the shift or how late I stayed up the previous day, running evens me out. It’s my type of therapy in the middle of the busy season of my life. I feel my best when my quads burn, lungs sting, and sweat slicks down my spine. The steady pound of my sneakers against the belt is more soothing than anything else.
Fifty minutes into my run, my focus drifts to the TV mounted on the wall opposite me. Teddy’s hockey headshot fills the massive screen, like the damn universe is trying its best so I won’t forget his existence. I stare too long, caught in his former self. That version of him is not the bandaged, bruised man I’ll see later today, but the one I crushed on as a teenager.
My foot missteps, and I nearly eat it, slapping both hands onto the treadmill rails to steady myself. “Real smooth, Campbell,” I mumble under my breath.
The woman running near me gives me a side-eye.Jeez, mind your own business, lady.I fumble with the speed controls, my cheeks blazing and pulse hammering with embarrassment.
It’s surreal, watching him larger than life on-screen, when I’ve seen him broken in more ways than one. The contrast makes my head spin. The man everyone debates about in sports segments can’t be the same one whose voice cracked when he asked me if he’d ever see again.
The wildest part is that he knowsIexist. Not in the fairytale-like way a fan dreams of being noticed by their favorite athlete, but in an unexpected way. Teddy Seaborn, my teenage crush plastered across my bedroom walls, now recognizes my voice and calls me by name. Part of me could get used to that closeness. But I can’t let myself. I have to hold the clear line between nurse and patient. There’s a long list of rules I need to follow, too.
By the time I shut off the treadmill, my legs feel like jelly. My water bottle shakes in my hand as I step down, forcing a laugh when the college kid who works the gym raises an eyebrow at me.
“You okay, Ivy? You nearly face-planted up there.”
“Fine,” I lie and wipe sweat from my forehead. “Just distracted.”
He glances at the TV, now showing another slow-motion shot of Teddy’s career. “Uh-huh. Distracted.”
I roll my eyes, pretending I don’t care, but inside I’m unraveling. Because my confused thoughts aren’t about the star on the highlight reel anymore. They’re about the man waiting at Easton General. Now I only have to separate the two sides to survive the next weeks caring for him.Easier said than done.
The café near my place in Astoria always smells of roasted coffee beans and buttered toast. That same comforting scentwill linger on my clothes afterwards. Outside, the city is wet and gray. But here, wrapped in comfort, time slows. One of my closest friends, Nevaeh, is easy to spot. She’s curled into a booth at the far side, one leg tucked underneath her, a cup of chai latte cradled between her palms. Her dark curls are piled into a bun, and her lavender cardigan highlights her tanned skin. When she sees me, she breaks into a grin that makes her bright eyes crinkle at the corners.
“There she is,” she calls, loud enough to cut through the hiss of the espresso machine. “The speed demon herself.”
I groan, making a show of rolling my eyes as I slide into the booth across from her. The vinyl seat squeaks under my weight. “Don’t start.”
“Please. You texted about your personal best in all caps the second you crossed the finish line in Montreal. There were enough exclamation points to make it look like a fire alarm went off.” She takes a slow sip, eyes glinting over the rim of the mug. “Forgive me if I bring it up.”
“It was kind of a big deal.”
“Kind of?” Her brows shoot up. “Ivy, you crushed it! The months of training and all that stubbornness are finally paying off.”
Equal parts pride and disbelief fill my chest. “It certainly felt different this time. Like everythingfinallylined up.”
“Good. You deserve that.”
I blink a few times and manage a small smile. “Thanks, Vae.”
The server drops menus on the table, but Nevaeh doesn’t look at hers. She’s still studying me. “Remember skateboardingdown the hill by my house? Everyone else was terrified, but you shot past us like gravity was optional.”
I wince at the not-so-pleasant memory. “Until I hit the curb and broke my arm the summer between freshman and sophomore year of high school.”
