“How it went?”
“They’ve got me learning to walk with a white cane. Turns out there’s a whole lineup of them—lightweight, supporting, guiding, you name it.” I reach to the side, fingers brushing against mine. It’s slim and lightweight with a longer sweep than the others I tried. The metal is cool to the touch, both alien and comfortable in my hand. “This is a long one with better reach that helps me map out the ground ahead of me.”
“Can I?—?”
“Go ahead.”
Jasper’s hand brushes mine and his fingers curl around the device. He whistles and I can hear the whizzing sound of it swinging back and forth. “Damn. It doesn’t look like much, but I can imagine how it works. Sweet.”
“It’s not exactly badass equipment,” I mutter, lips twitching.
“Come on,” Jasper starts, “you’re out here learning to use it. Taking steps after all that? Yeah, that’s badass.”
The words hit heavier than expected. I cover the rising emotions with a scoff, the way I was basically trained to do growing up. “I took ten steps without face-planting. Don’t polish it up too much.”
“That’s still ten steps more than before.”What a smartass.“For what it’s worth, the Peacocks guys send their best. We might wear different colors, but you’re still one of us.”
“Tell them I said thanks. Even if you’re repping the wrong damn jersey.”
“Still salty about the trade, huh?”
“Maybe a little,” I say, pinching my fingers together to show just how tiny I mean.
We both chuckle at that. Jasper slips into story mode, filling me in on the latest locker room chaos and the equipment manager trainee who somehow dyed all the practice jerseys pink. I can picture every second he describes, and for a moment it feels like I’m right back in the middle of the camaraderie I’ve been missing while stuck here.
“No way,” I laugh, shaking my head. “How the hell do you dye jerseys pink by accident?”
“The kid mixed the detergents wrong or something. I have no clue, but a whole load came out this bubblegum color. You should’ve seen Coach Presley’s face. It looked like he was about to combust on the spot.”
“Bet the rookies loved it.”
“Are you kidding? They strutted out to practice like they were born to wear it. Full on Barbie-core.”
A wheeze of laughter breaks out of me before I can stop it, hurting my ribs, but it feels good to joke around. “God, I wish I could’ve seen that.”
“You would’ve convinced Foster to keep it as an alternate jersey if it happened to your team.”
“I’m notthatbad.”
“Please. You once tried to order us custom practice socks with flamingos on them.”
I snort at the memory. “That was genius. You were the one who lacked vision.”
“Pretty sure you’re making a pun,” he mutters, then adds lightheartedly, “Blind jokes already?”
“If I can’t handle a bad pun, then I’m screwed. I don’t want you tiptoeing around me, acting like I’ll break if you say the wrong thing,” I explain. “I want everything to remain the same between us.”
Jasper exhales a laugh of relief. “No filter then.”
“Good. That’s how I like you.”
“Careful what you wish for, Seaborn.”
“I can handle it,” I shoot back, smiling despite myself.
Later in the evening, Ivy’s voice floats in like she’s been here all along. “Good evening, Mr. Seaborn. How are we feeling today?”
“Depends. Are you going to break it to me gently that I missed out on room service again?”
