Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Blakely laughs again as we stop outside of the men's locker room. “You are definitely something, Lawson Wolfe.”
“Don't you mean I'm definitely your hero? I mean, come on, not only are we going to get rid of your creepy ex, but I’ll make you a better teacher.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely,” I say, furrowing my brow. “Your most difficult students are always what makes you better, right?”
Blakely grins up at me, rolling her eyes. “You've got me there,” she says, then spares a glance down the hallway toward the exit doors that lead to the parking lot. There’s a hint of wariness there I can't help but notice.
“I'll be quick,” I say. Nodding toward the locker room behind me. “Wait for me?”
Something like relief settles over her, her shoulders dropping slightly, and she nods. “I'll be right here,” she says, pulling her phone out of her bag and looking at the screen.
I hurry into the locker room, speeding through my after-practice routine and getting back to Blakely in record time.
“That was quick,” she says.
“That's not something usually said about me,” I fire back, falling into step beside her as we walk down the hallway.
A delicate blush passes over her cheeks as she tilts her head up at me. “What about when you're on the ice?” she challenges.
“Okay, fair. I am a speed demon on the ice.”
She laughs at that, and I hold the door open for her as we make our way out to the parking lot. Her eyes dart over the array of cars that are parked in the lot.
Other players have come in to work out or do recovery or hit the ice. That tension in her shoulders is back, and I can feel it radiating into my body as we make our way to our cars that are parked next to each other.
“Can I ask you something, Blakely?” I ask, my tone dropping all tease and joking. “It’s personal,” I add.
We stop by her driver side door, and she visibly swallows as she turns to face me, looking up at me with curious eyes. “Sure,” she answers. “What's up?” Even as she asks me, she's glancing around like she's looking for someone.
“This ex of yours,” I say, hesitating because I know these kinds of questions are precarious and can be triggering. “Was he on the abusive side?” I ask as gently as I can. “I just can't help but notice the way you tense up when you get a text, or even now when you're looking around like you're expecting somebody to spring a jump scare on you. And I'm not just asking because we're about to be putting on a show for him, but because I need to know that you’re okay.”
Her lips part as her eyes meet mine, something churning there that I can't quite read. “He's never laid a hand on me,” she explains. “But toward the end, he would get...” She hesitates like she's looking for the right words. “When we would skate together, practicing mostly for his competitions, he would be less gentle. Especially if I made a mistake.”
I tense my jaw, making sure that none of the anger I feel coursing through me can be interpreted as being directed toward her.
“I think he saw the end coming,” she continues. “And then when I actually did end things, he put a hole through his wall. I wasn't standing near it or anything, but it definitely scared the hell out of me. Him showing up randomly at places where I'm at and his constant texting in an attempt to get me to come back to him has put me on edge.”
“Fucking prick,” I say, unable to hold that commentary back.
“Yep,” she says, and the finality in her voice says she doesn't want to talk about it anymore.
And that's totally fair. We're still in the very early get-to-know-you stages, even as friends, despite the fact that I know what her lips feel like against mine.
Shit, just the thought of it has me aching for another taste.
I step a little closer to her, nothing but sincerity in my eyes as I look down at her. “I know I run off at the mouth a lot,” I say. “But you're safe with me. And I know that probably doesn't hold much weight since we don't know each other all that well, but I hope I've proven that much to you, especially since you picked me to help you with this little endeavor.”
She nods. “Thank you,” she says. “I actually have to speak at an event in four days. It'll be our first mission.” She flashes me a smile, doing her best to shift away from the heavy, a change in direction I can respect, so I hop on board.
“Four days, huh?” I say, leaning one arm on her car behind her, bringing us even closer. I love that she doesn't shy away from the nearness, love the little hitch in her breath as she never loses my gaze. “Don't you think we need a little more practice at looking like we're hopelessly in love with each other?”