Page 15 of Offside

I looked down at my hands. The right one rested lower on my thigh.

"Four mornings," I said.

"For two weeks. Then we decide from the response. Not before."

He came around behind me and set his hands across the top of my shoulder. The muscle had locked hard after practice. His thumbs found the edge of it.

"Breathe." My first breath stopped beneath my collarbone.

"Again," he said, his voice calm. I let the second one go farther.

His pressure stayed steady. No force against the joint. No attempt to work the answer out of me with his hands. He waited for the muscle to yield while Zoe talked Mikkola through his last set across the room.

"I shouldn't have hit him like that," I said.

"No," Declan said. His hands stayed at the same pressure.

"Reeves sat me for a rep."

His thumbs held the same pressure. "Only one?"

"I did the next one right."

"Good."

I breathed again. This one finally reached my lungs.

The muscle under Declan's left hand loosened first. The right followed. My fingers opened on my thighs.

"The file is still true." I sighed. "I still hate it."

His hands moved slowly once, checking that the guarding hadn't returned.

"You just can't body-check it," he said.

I looked over my shoulder at him. His face was completely composed. The corner of his mouth wasn't.

"That sounded like a joke, Pryce."

"Documented impairment in my judgment. Temporary, I hope."

I laughed before I meant to. It pulled at the shoulder.

Declan felt the reaction under his hands and eased the pressure without removing them.

"Four mornings," he said again.

"I'll be here."

6

Declan

Anna had chosen the table beside the window. The café was narrow, with six tables along one brick wall and a counter that took up most of the other side. At eleven on a Saturday, every chair was occupied. People came through the door carrying November with them, cold air and damp leaves, and kept their coats on while they waited for coffee.

I arrived ten minutes early. I also chose a different table, the one farthest from the door, and ordered her tea before she got there.

"You hate this table," I said. The draft had already found the back of my neck.