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)
“And if he's not? If he can't move past it?”
“Then I'm definitely trading him to the Sharks,” Dad says, laughing at his own joke.
I smile, but I can't help the raging uncertainty that swallows me whole. I know that Lawson is a good person, but he has no obligation to move past what I kept from him or to turn down an offer from his favorite team just for me.
In fact, when I think about it like that, it's selfish as hell for me to even want that for him. Because even though this is new between us, I've never felt anything as strong or powerful, but that doesn't mean he feels the same or that he should be expected to give up everything to see if we work out.
“Are you going to be okay?” Dad asks.
“I'm going to be okay,” I say confidently. Either way, I had to be okay, but I would definitely plead my case.
I reach for my phone in my pocket, rising from the chair and heading toward the door. I think better of it at the last minute and turn around, wrapping my arms around my dad. Hugging him like I’m four years old again after taking another bad fall on the ice.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say before releasing him.
“Anytime, honey, you know that.”
I flash him a smile and then head out of his office, frantically typing a text to Lawson.
Me: Will you please meet me at the practice arena tonight for one more private lesson?
I send the text quickly before I can chicken out, adrenaline soaring through my veins as I await his response. After ten minutes go by and he hasn’t texted back, I'm assuming he's still firmly in the I don't want to talk column, but then my phone buzzes.
Lawson: What time?
Me: Five
Hope flares through me at his response, and I'm not sure if he'll agree to it, especially since I know that his meeting with the Sharks owner is at seven thirty.
Lawson: I can only do an hour
Relief barrels through me so quickly I almost want to cry again, but I feel like I've had enough of that in the last few days.
Me: That's all I'm asking for.
He doesn't respond to that or send any other text afterward. I do my best to distract myself with the few hours I have until we will meet up. I use that time to try to gather my words in the best way possible and make a few very important phone calls while I'm at it. Definitely makes me look completely vulnerable and lovestruck after I get off the phone, but I don't really care at the moment.
And by the time five rolls around, I'm already laced up and on the ice, my heart threatening to pound right out of my chest as I wait.
And wait.
Lawson isn't usually late, which makes my heart plummet to the bottom of my stomach. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he thought it over and doesn't think I'm worth hearing out. Because he has to know that's what this is about, right? He can't honestly think that all I wanted to do was give him some more pointers on how to win the next game. Maybe he—
I hear skates hit the ice, and I look up from where I’ve been studying mine, watching him glide over to me looking as gorgeous as ever. Instead of his usual practice gear, he’s dressed in a pair of black pants and dark blue thermal.
He comes to a stop before me, his already tall frame towering over me even more in skates, and somehow I feel like we're right back where we started. Only this time, he's the one resisting our connection instead of me. Funny how the world works out that way.
“Thanks for meeting with me,” I say, my voice cracking despite the fact that I have practiced this speech six thousand times in my head already. “I was thinking we could work on some balance drills—”
“Wait, this is actually about practice?” he asks, and his voice sounds raw too, like his emotions are being scraped over his vocal cords.
“I was thinking we could work on some balance drills,” I continue. “While we talk. Or rather, I talk and you do your best not to say anything back.”
He gapes at me, and I shrug.
“I don't want you to feel obligated to say anything, so this is your free pass to just listen and work on your balance.”
“Okay,” he says, his eyes trailing me up and down in that way they do that makes me feel melty all over. My heart flutters like it's trying to come back to life after three days of being numb.
I start us off with the drill, slowly skating around the rink and carefully extending one leg behind me, focusing on holding the pose as we round the corners. Lawson falls into the drill easily since we've done it dozens of times before.