Veronica heaves a sigh. “You two should go.”
“What?” There’s no trace of Finley’s teasing tone in the word. “I’m not done practicing.”
“I can’t have you getting hurt because your head isn’t in it, and based on what I saw, you’re focused on something else. So go deal with… it.”
Finley barks out a laugh. “No coach has ever ordered me to hook up instead of practice.”
“Just being practical,” Veronica says, her back to us as she retreats toward the gym entrance. She has some elite gymnasts showing up to train soon. Usually, there’s an overlap between Finley’s practice time and the other girls, high school age oryounger. “The last thing I need for you to do is injure yourself after I scored you an audience with the UPC coach.”
Finley’s steps halt. “Wait—what?”
Veronica still doesn’t turn around, as if she hasn’t dropped news Finley’s spent months clamoring for. “Yep. He’ll stop by sometime in late January.”
“Oh my God. Wait—are you serious? He agreed? To comehere?”
Veronica hums. “Mm-hmm.”
Finley leaps into the air, her hands on her cheeks as she saysOh my Godover and over again. It’s contagious, this joy of hers. My heart is on the verge of bursting on her behalf. She eventually stops hopping around the floor and settles back on solid ground.
“Zach.” Tears well in her eyes. “I never…” Emotion clogs her throat, cutting off her words. “I never thought…” She tries again but fails to vocalize the rest of the sentence.
I scoop her into my arms, lifting her off the ground. Her arms wrap around my neck, her mouth pressing against my ear. I breathe her in; she still smells faintly of fruity coconut despite her workout. “I’m so happy for you, High-flyer. You deserve this. You deserve every good thing.”
“Thank you,” she breathes, her voice still flooded with emotion. I assume she’s thanking me for my words until she adds, “Thank you for being here. For supporting me. You have no idea how much it matters to me.”
You have no idea how much you matter to me.
“I feel so lucky, so grateful,” Finley goes on. “This news means so much more, sharing it with you.”
And there goes my heart, pressing into the confines of my chest, damn near bursting with love for her.
23
Zach
Volk laces my skates,each movement getting me closer to game ready.
Game days are my favorite days. I’m happy to be in the locker room today, preparing to return to the ice for the first time since Ward made me go splat. Matt drove me to the arena, because we live in the same house but also because he thinks I’m anxious. My foot tapping at breakfast had nothing to do with anxiety though; it was pure anticipation. Every nerve ending has been on fire since the moment I woke up, knowing today I’d play in a hockey game on my ice.
And it is mine. I belong on the Palmer City Wolves. I intend to remind management of it at every game for the rest of the season, all the way until I secure a deal to keep me in the place I consider home.
Volk deposits one leg on the floor before lifting the other to lace that skate. I should hate the way Volk and Matt coddle me,like I’m a helpless little kid, but I don’t mind it right now. All it does is reinforce they love me like a brother.
“Don’t get used to this,” Volk grumbles.
It’s freaky how well he reads my thoughts sometimes. I suppose living with someone helps with learning how they think. It’s how I know the tick in his jaw means something’s on his mind. During the dark time when Volk and Kennedy broke up for a few weeks, this dude ground his teeth so loudly, it woke me up from a nap on the plane.
“What’s up with you?”
He shakes his head, keeping his focus on my laces.
“You know I’ll badger it out of you. You should save yourself the headache.”
Volk sighs loudly. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
I roll my eyes. “You love me.”
“Like a puck to the face.”
