Finley doesn’t break stride. “Not the first time.”
The woman clutches her chest as if she’s been struck. “Bold of you to start your sassbeforepractice. The first since you blew off your workout.”
“That’s my fault,” I say, stepping up beside Finley. “I don’t know if you caught the game Friday—”
“Phoebe—my girlfriend—and I werethere. The sound when you hit the ice.” She cringes over the hit I still haven’t seen. I’ll watch it tomorrow when my screen ban lifts.
I let out a sigh. “Fucking brutal.”
“And then Volk smashed Ward’s face in,” Veronica continues, her tone filled with glee. “I loved seeing the ice painted with his blood. He’ssucha dick.”
Finley’s mouth gapes.
Her coach holds out a hand, which I shake. She has a nose piercing—a stud in one nostril—and a single freckle above the piercing. “Damn, man, it’s fucking fantastic to meet you. I’m Veronica Lee. I’ve been coaching this one since summer.”
“Veronica was a collegiate gymnast,” Finley chimes in. “She holds, like, every record at UPC.”
Veronica flicks a wrist at Finley, then promptly changes the subject. “So are you going to explain why you’ve brought Zach Briggs to my gym?”
Finley walks toward the bike she uses for warm up. “He’s recovering and has nothing to do, so he’s following me around.” She flashes me a goofy smile when she turns back to us. “Honestly, I can’t get rid of him.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Which of us has lived in Palmer City longer?”
She pops her hip, resting one hand there. “Are you trying to say I moved here for you?”
“You said it.” I shrug, biting the inside of my lip to keep a smile from blooming across my face.
Finley tilts her head, studying me. What is she trying to figure out?
Being around her cranks the voltage on my nerves, but the longer I’m with her, the more comfortable I become with the sensation. And the more comfortable I become, the more I’m my true self, which so many people find to be too much but also not enough.
I want to be enough for her.
Instead of retorting, Finley slips her sweatpants down her legs, her gaze remaining locked on me. The movement strips any shred of bravado I conjured with my last comment.
I swallow hard and avert my gaze.
“Zach’s in concussion protocol,” Finley answers Veronica’s question in earnest. “And I’m his chaperone.”
“I can’t drive anywhere.” I protest Finley’s characterization, watching her swing one leg over the bike, propelling herself into the seat. “I’m supposed to be getting back to light activity, so here I am.”
Finley winks at me. “Where I can keep an eye on you.”
“If you must,” I answer nonchalantly, as if the idea of Finley watching me doesn’t make me want to simultaneously scream in excitement and vomit all over the floor.
Finley rolls her eyes, then focuses on her warm-up.
“Warm up nice and good, Fi,” Veronica calls as she walks over to me. “We’ll be doing some conditioning today to make up for lost time.” She taps me on the shoulder, head tilting toward the area I stayed in last time. “Come on, Briggsy, let’s get you settled. This is gonna be a long one.”
“Fine by me.” I follow her to the alcove. “It’s not like I have anything else going on.”
Even if I did, I’d prefer to watch Finley flip through the air and land effortlessly on her feet. I’d prefer to watch Finley, period.
“How long are you gonna be out for?”
“No clue. I’ll be reevaluated Friday.”
I can’t imagine it’ll be a quick return to the team, not with the severity of my symptoms. I've had a concussion before, but after a few days of nausea and light sensitivity, I returned to normal. This time is different. I knew it as soon as I woke up and my brain throbbed like a car stereo with its bass too loud. If it wasn’t for Finley, I’d spendallmy time freaking the fuck out about what this means for my career.
