18
BRENNA
Seven years ago
My entire body frozewhen Nathan Sharpe entered the athletic training office.
The trainer, Ms. Williams, waved at him a beat later. “Good to see you, Mr. Sharpe. How’s the arm holding up?”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Just coming by for some ice for the bus ride home, if that’s okay?”
Nathan hadn’t seen me yet, didn’t even know to look for me here. Five months ago, after the showdown between our parents, Nathan and his mom moved to Pillsner, a neighboring town whose high school baseball team rivaled ours. I hadn’t seenNathan since the night he told me we were done. He hadn’t answered any of the daily texts I sent him.
And now he was here.
“Of course,” she said. “I’m in the middle of something, but my intern… Brenna, can you set up Mr. Sharpe with a bag of ice?”
Nathan’s gaze swung to mine. His mesmerizing blue eyes widened then turned to ice. His once smiling expression tightened to a frown. I barely recognized my happy-go-lucky best friend. I hoped his reaction was because of me and not because the last five months had irreparably changed him.
Not one thing had changed for me in our time apart. My heart rate sped as I appreciatively scanned Nathan’s body in his baseball uniform—gray pants clinging tightly to his thighs, short sleeves of his jersey displaying strong, suntanned arms, black baseball cap sitting backward on his head. Every single instinct shouted to move close to him, remembering how, by some miracle, Nathan had once belonged to me. He had lovedme.
I managed a nod and gestured to the table closest to the ice machine. “Sure. Take a seat.”
I turned my back on Nathan, focusing on shoveling ice into a plastic bag. The air chilled my hot cheeks. But it didn’t take long to tie off the bag, which meant facing Nathan at a closer distance. My body was a livewire with emotions surging through it.
“I expected to see you on the field,” Nathan said as our eyes met again. Neither of us was in control of the instinct to stare.
I moved to his side, carrying the bag by its neck. “No one told you I’m not on the team?”
Nathan arched a brow. “Who would have told me?”
Right. Nathan wasn’t talking to his father. I thought he would have kept in touch with our teammates, at least the ones he considered friends, but maybe he avoided them too. Or they knew better than to talk about me.
“Put your arm at your side, please.” I broke eye contact to focus on the task at hand. He obliged and allowed me to place the ice pack on his shoulder. “Adjust it if you need to, and then I’ll wrap it.”
Nathan shifted the bag. His hand brushed mine, awakening every nerve in my body, each one craving more contact.
My sharp intake of breath gave away exactly how that brief touch affected me.
He cleared his throat, then said roughly, “Go ahead.”
At least I wasn’t the only one affected by our closeness.
I placed one hand on the ice, concealing my wince from the cold, and pulled a wrap across his body. “Can you lift your other arm?”
Nathan followed my instructions. I reached across him, deftly swapping the hand holding the gauze with the one securing the ice. The move brought me closer to Nathan. His bubble gum scent consumed me, dredging up a thousand memories of us. The sound of his breath hitching sent an ache of pure longing deep into my belly.
“Why aren’t you playing this season?”
“I didn’t want to.” I continued wrapping gauze around his body, over and over, ripping my scabbed heart open each time.
“Because of me?”
“I’m not popular with the team.” Most of them blamed me for Nathan leaving Middlebury. I’d lost them their shot at state. It wasn’t Nathan’s fault no one wanted me on the team. And even though he’d cast me from his life, I couldn’t find one part of me that wanted to hurt him. I loved him too much. I would forgive him if he asked.
“Besides, playing baseball isn’t as fun without you.” I fastened the gauze with a piece of metal, tugging to confirm it was secure before adding, “And interning here will look good on college applications.”
“I think it’s less fun without you too,” Nathan admitted.
