“No.”
I curled into myself tighter and accidentally moved my ankle too much, causing me to wince again. Nick, ever so attentive, noticed.
“That’s it, no more Mr. Nice Guy.”
Nick pushed my shoulder down onto the bed so that I was flat on my back, grabbed my hips and pulled me to the center of my mattress, and then gingerly held my casted foot while he fluffed the pillows underneath it.
“For the next eight weeks, I’m going to make you smile as much as I can, Smol,” he said matter-of-factly.
I glowered at him and crossed myarms.
“I’m serious,” he said with raised eyebrows.
I moved to roll on my side again just to spite him, but then he was suddenly on my bed, kissing me fiercely. His tongue swept through my mouth, and his hand ran through my hair. As depressed as I was, I still desperately wanted him. He was like a lifeline, showing me I wasn’t all worthless- which is how I felt without skating.
“If I have to make out with you to keep ya flat on your back, I will,” he said against my lips. “Oh man, oh mannn!” he sing-song-ed. “I think I see a smile there!”
It was true, his efforts weren’t in vain because I couldn’t not laugh around him, but I was not done with being upset yet and I tried to fightit.
“Think about it this way, babe,” he brushed my hair with his fingers. “Maybe this could be freeing. You’ve always spent hours at the Ice League every day of your life. I’m not discouraging you from skating when you’re all healed up. You are a beautiful skater, and I am so proud that you’re my girl… but you won’t be able to compete your whole life either. It’s not sustainable. Hell, it’s not healthy. You and I both know that,” he said, fixing me with a stare. “You won’t even be living here in Northfield your whole life, ya know? And that’s a good thing! Because you have so much more to look forward to. And I’m gonna show you that, babe,” he winked at me. “This is just the beginning of things, I promise.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Who says I won’t live here forever?” I demanded. I knew he was just trying to cheer me up, but I felt like being a brat.
“Me,” he said confidently. “Because you’re coming with me.”
I gawked at him. “Coming with you where?”
He shrugged and smiled at me. “Wherever we end up, babe. You’re my most important teammate, you know that.”
That response deflated anything else I would have challenged him with. Because I loved that proclamation. I loved when he used “we,” and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t memorize that answer and write it down so I’d never forget it.
But looking back down at my ankle again, I sighed. Everything had been going too perfectly. I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.
I worked to be the best skater I could be since I was four years old… and now I had nothing to show for it…
“I feel like I’m at the edge of a cliff,” I whispered my worry to him. “Like I don’t know what’s after skating.”
“Then we’ll jump that cliff together and skydive, woooosh,” he said while making a gliding motion with his arms. “We’ll have a good eight weeks, baby,” he said, brushing my hair back behind my ear. I must’ve looked like a mess, but he didn’t seem to care. “We’ll have some fun while you’re laid up. You’ll see. I’ll helpya.”
Griff– or, more likely Duke–laid on the horn outside on the street then, interrupting us.
He looked at me with a sad smile, then got up and gave me a quick kiss on my forehead before making his way over to the window again.
“Keep that foot elevated,” he directed. “We’ll be back as soon as practice and work are over. Then you’re stuck with me all night long. I’ll keep my phone close by and check it all the time. Lemme know if ya need anything.”
With that, he disappeared out onto the roof.
21. Griff
After monitoring the afternoon sticks and pucks session, I ducked into the pro shop to get my skates sharpened… and to buy an extra pair of blade soakers for the tops of Sav’s crutches. I broke my foot once way back in elementary school, and I knew that the worst thing about crutches was how they rubbed against your armpits and created a rash.
Without a parent who noticed that kind of thing, my rash was horrible. My coach’s wife at the time took pity on me and gave me this little tip. I’d gladly pass on the knowledge to Sav.
I looked at the options and set my sights on a sky blue fuzzy pair of figure skating soakers. The figure skating ones were much fluffier and would probably help her out a lot more than the hockey ones.
When I brought them to the counter, I internally cringed. I hoped I would’ve been buying from Craig. He surely would’ve known that they were a present for Sav… Talk of her injury was all over the rink this morning… But instead of Craig, I faced the legendary player from the Ice League- Greyson Scott. He’d just had his first season in the NHL and was home for the summer to train and work here.
When he gazed back at me, his eyes looked dead and he had a new, rough looking scar on his face right under his cheek bone.
