Owen skates backward away from us, pointing his stick at me. “We are absolutely revisiting this later.”
“Hard pass,” I mutter to his back.
“You don’t get a vote anymore,” he calls over his shoulder.
Liam laughs beside me as we skate toward center ice, both of us slowing near the faceoff dot while Campbell explains the drill for approximately the fifth time like we haven’t all been doing variations of this since we were kids.
“You good?” Liam asks quieter this time, the teasing finally easing out of his voice.
It catches me off guard a little. Not the question itself, but the sincerity behind it.
I glance toward him, tightening my grip on my stick, and think about it. Weirdly, I am fine. “Yeah.”
Because for the first time in a while, things don’t feel heavy. Complicated? Absolutely. Potentially disastrous? Also yes, but not heavy.
The thought of Vivian sparks something inside of me, restless and alive. I don’t know what this is, and I definitely don’t know what she wants, but hey––I don’t even know what I’m doing.
But I know I kissed her in an alley in Old Town, and when I woke up this morning, my first thought was wanting to do it again.
Liam bumps his shoulder lightly against mine. “Okay. Good.”
Across the ice, Campbell blows the whistle and points at us.
“Move your asses, kids, and let’s do this.”
I push off first, digging my skates into the ice as Liam chases after me. This is life moving forward whether you’re ready for it or not.
For the first time in a long time, I think maybe I am.
CHAPTER 17
TY
By the time I get home from practice, I’m feeling it. Not in a dramatic, can’t-move way, but in that low, steady kind of tiredness that settles into your shoulders and stays there. The kind that says you did something today, whether you got it right or not.
I drop my keys by the door, toe off my shoes, and make my way over to the window.
The Potomac stretches out below, dark and slow, catching the last of the light. It’s quieter up here. Not silent, but…manageable. One thing at a time. Water moving. Cars in the distance. Nothing overlapping in a way that makes my brain work overtime to sort it.
My phone is still in my hand, with Dr. Hale’s text still open. Change of plans. Saturday for my appointment this week, not Monday as we’d scheduled. She has to go out of town unexpectedly and needs to adjust.
I scrub a hand over the back of my neck, already doing the math. It means leaving practice early. Not ideal. Not when things are just starting to click with the girls. Not when I said I’d be there. Not when I know Vivian’s going to be there, too.
I exhale slowly, glancing out over the water like it’s going tosolve it for me. It doesn’t, and I need to answer her, so I type out a quick response.
No problem.
And hit send. I’ve been pep-talking myself all week so that I could ask Vivian out on Saturday and now, well, now my therapist has gone and blown a hole wide open in my plans.
Thanks, Dr. Hale. That was for sure unmapped.
Out of habit, my thumb taps the screen, opening my messages. Her name’s right there. I can ask her now.
I don’t overthink it. If I do, I won’t send it.
If it’s not too late in the day, can I take you to dinner tonight?
I stare at it for a second, but the three dots pop up almost immediately. That was fast.
