Her brown eyes search mine, and for a moment I see a flash of the way she used to look at me, before I ruined everything. “Yeah?” She whispers.
“I...” I lose my nerve. The words pile up behind my teeth, but I can’t let them out. Not now, not like this, not when I’m still shaking from a panic attack. “What are you doing here?”
She cocks her head, and I see the moment she decides to let me off the hook. “I’m working. I’m supervising the physical therapy interns. They’ll be here in about an hour to help with pre-season assessments, so I came early to set up the stations.” She gestures toward the bin she brought in. “Making sure we have all the equipment ready for baseline flexibility and strength testing.”
I laugh out loud, the sound bouncing off the walls. So much for Niall’s insistence that I’ll never run into her. Pine Island isbarely three miles long, and we’re both working at the same high school.
“What’s so funny?”
I shake my head but can’t stop smiling. “It’s just... crazy, isn’t it? How life brought us back together?”
She drops her gaze so that I can’t read her eyes, those expressive eyes that used to tell me everything. “Yeah.”
There’s a stiffness there, the warmth that had been creeping in between us like spring thaw now gone, frozen over again. Voices from the ice rink permeate the closed door—loud, boisterous, teenage boys hyping each other up. The team is arriving, suiting up and joking around. I can hear Jeff’s distinctive laugh, followed by the clatter of sticks being pulled from bags. Someone’s already turned on the locker room music—some rap song with heavy bass that vibrates through the walls.
Devin stands and brushes off the seat of her pants, professional distance sliding back into place like armor. “Good luck at your first practice.”
“Thank you.” I stand as well, wanting to say more, but she’s already heading out of the room, her hand on the door handle.
She pauses at the threshold, silhouetted against the harsh hallway lights. For a second, I think she might turn around, might say something more. But then she pushes through the door, letting it close softly behind her. Through the window, I watch her walk away, her stride purposeful but not rushed, stopping to exchange a few words with one of the early-arriving players.
It’s time for me to get to work, our moment is over. I grab my bag from where I dropped it, take one more deep breath to center myself, and head for the door. My hand on the handle, I allow myself one last thought before stepping into my new role.
But hopefully, it wasn’t the last one.
Chapter Nine
Devin
“Okay.” Flick grins around the circle, her knitting sitting untouched in her lap. “What’s new? What’s the scoop? Gimme the drama.”
I gulp, feeling like I’m in class hoping the teacher won’t call on me.
“I’m tired as hell,” Alexis says. “That’s what’s new. Sorry it’s not dramatic.” She shifts in her chair, one hand resting on the swell of her belly.
There’s a chorus of sympathetic sounds, and Maya reaches over to gently touch Alexis’s pregnant belly. “Are you getting enough sleep?”
“Trying to. I have to sleep on my side now, and even with the body pillow it’s awkward. Plus the baby has been moving a lot when I’m in bed. I guess they sleep during the day and then practice for the Olympics at night.” She laughs, but there’s exhaustion behind it. “Last night I swear they were doing somersaults for two hours straight.”
“There has to be some kind of herb or supplement that can help that’s safe during pregnancy,” Hannah says, her fingers flying as she knits a sweater for the upcoming baby. The soft click of her needles provides a steady rhythm to the conversation. Between the five of us, this kid is going to be swimming up to their ears in homemade clothes by the time they’re born.
I throw out some suggestions for stretches that can help relax Alexis’s muscles and give the baby more space in her pelvis, demonstrating with my hands how to position the hips for the modified child’s pose. Maya adds a tip about magnesium that helped her sister during pregnancy. I’m happy that pregnancy is a topic that can easily eat up an hour of time. The more we talk about other people, it’s less likely the conversation will turn to me.
“What’s new with you, Devin?” Flick asks, reading my mind and misinterpreting my desires completely.
“Um.” I clear my throat, all too aware of Maya’s gaze boring into the side of my head. I told her that I saw Oliver at hockey practice, but I didn’t share anything else—certainly not that he had a panic attack, which is private. “I think I’m going to take this course to get certified in Yoga Nidra. It would be good to blend the practice with my Yoga for Insomnia class.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maya’s brow pinching in confusion. It’s standard for us to share everything during our Chronic Pain Crafters evenings. These four women are the closest friends I’ve ever had, and they all know about Oliver.
At least, they know about the Oliver who I was in a relationship with years ago. Now, I’m not so sure that I even know Oliver myself. Our interaction in the PT room left me thinking that maybe I don’t understand him at all, and I don’t want to fall into the trap of shit talking him like my family did over Christmas.
Reading my old journals made me even more confused. I used to think our story was black and white—I was the goodguy, he was the villain. The curtain has been pulled back now, and I’ve been reminded that things are hardly ever that simple.
So, for now, I’m going to let my doubts and desires swirl around in my head. I’ll share with my friends when it’s time.
“What’s yoga nidra, exactly?” Flick asks.
“It’s very restorative,” I answer, almost too eagerly. My needles pause as I look up, grateful for the shift in topic. “The teacher guides you into a space between being awake and asleep. It’s thought that this is where deep healing can happen.”
