I crack my neck and wince. My muscles are already going stiff. I didn’t stretch out after the game. Or yesterday’s practice. Or today’s.
“No wonder you have a concussion.”
“The concussion isn’t from that.” I let my head thunk back against the seat and groan.
Pierce drums his fingers on the steering wheel.
“No, it’s from impact, because you started a fight that emptied the bench and got you fined. Dehydration makes recovery slower. You’re off the bench until you can skate straight again. It messeswith blood volume. It screws with cognitive processing. It’s why you feel dizzy and your vision is off.”
“I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I understand the science. I don’t need a lecture.”
“I’m not lecturing you,” Pierce says.
“No, you’re being a bossy little bitch, and I didn’t ask for that.”
“I like it when you curse.” He flashes a grin.
“For fuck’s sake, Pierce.”
A horn blares right next to my open window, and it’s like an ice pick straight through my brain. I squeeze my eyes shut hoping that will kill the nausea. Pierce hands me his sunglasses. The afternoon sun is hitting us head-on. I check my phone, and immediately, my whole body softens.
Ash.
The dull thud in my head wipes away as I scroll up, rereading our conversation from this morning. I frown. I told her I’d take her out tonight. I said it wouldn’t be fancy, but I still want to impress her. What’s the Nashville version of fancy-but-casual? Barbecue? Too messy. Movies? Too boring. I’m not taking her to play pool or to drink at any of the sports bars. I want her to feel special, and I want to see her face.
But I need to lay low if I want to get back on the ice this season. We basically have to win every game to make it to the playoffs. I’m off the ice. Paxton is too.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard, then I type:
Beckett:
So funny story. I hurt my head and I’m basically on bed rest. I can’t take you out tonight but I can order us some cake. Do you want to come over and watcha movie?
Pierce says something else about dehydration, but I’m not listening. I’m watching the little bubble, waiting for Ash to type back. The dots appear, vanish, reappear.
We pull into the driveway. The truck rocks as it settles, and I’m already unbuckling before he kills the engine. I don’t want to talk anymore. But I pause when my phone buzzes.
Ash:
Sure
I can’t help but smile as I walk up the front steps and open the door.
Liam jerks his head up, snaps his laptop shut, and stacks up all the papers he had spread out on the coffee table.
“Hey, didn’t expect you back so soon. How was your date?”
The door slams behind me.
“What date?” Pierce’s voice goes cold.
Liam’s face freezes when he realizes he just stepped in it. I didn’t tell Pierce about the date. I didn’t even want to tell Liam. And I don’t want to rehash the details right now.
Liam looks between us.
