Page 43 of The Captain

I clear my throat, stuffing my hands in my hoodie pocket. The action draws his eyes to the hoodie, and I see a small tinge of happiness when he notices which one it is.

I quickly say, “We need to talk about the wedding,” to draw his attention away.

“Okay,” he says, leaning against the glass of the rink and shrugging. “What about it?”

“We have to be in it, and apparently there are a lot of pre-wedding activities we’ll be at together, so we need to pretend to get along.”

“I don’t have to pretend.” His words pierce through me quickly, and I close my eyes.

“Okay. So, we’ll behave then?”

Lincoln eyes me for a minute, watching my every move, and then sighs. “Of course. I don’t want to do anything that hurts you, Sunshine.”

“Stop.” I start to ask him not to call me that again, but I can’t freaking say the words. I feel embarrassed when my eyes start to water.

I’m close enough for him to reach out and grasp my hand, and when his skin touches mine, I let him pull me closer until we’re both leaning against the glass, me more pressed to him.

I can’t meet his eyes.

God, I wish it wasn’t so easy to fall into his embrace. Every time I’m near him, I just want his big arms wrapped around me again, to feel safe again.

“Sunshine,” he rasps against the side of my head, and then pulls me even closer, wrapping his big arms around my shoulders and holding tight.

I let my arms fall around his waist, gripping his shirt with my fingertips. All I want is to forget and forgive everything that happened between the two of us and move forward. I knew he was sorry, knew he was trying, but there was this little wall around my heart that didn’t want to be penetrated.

I pull away, wiping at the tear that managed to squeak by. “So.” I clear my throat. “Are you excited to get back to playing again?”

I don’t know why I ask that, why I don’t just march out of this arena and leave it alone. He agreed to behave, so the conversation was done.

“I am.” Hesitating, he blows out a breath. “If I get to.”

I whip my gaze back to his, furrowing my brows. “What does that mean?”

He braces his hands on his knees and shakes his head. “I didn’t do too hot in my finals.”

“Oh.” I crossed my arms, sad that he didn’t get what he needed to play. “Do you…do you need help?” I finally ask, risking my own sanity for the sake of helping him.

Or was it my way of allowing myself to be close to him? I shake my head at the confusing thoughts.

“No, that’s okay. I can’t burden you with that task again.” He gives a half-crooked smile and shrugs. “I’ll figure it out.”

We stand in silence for a few seconds before he stands straight, making it so I have to look up at him again. “Or I’ll try to go pro.”

The words shock me, and I blink at him. “Go pro? Already?”

He sighs. “I mean, I’m good enough to try, right? I suck at school, and sports journalism obviously won’t work out for me anyway, so using it as a fallback is kind of stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” I say quickly, feeling a tendril of panic at the notion of him leaving. “You’re not a bad writer or speaker, Lincoln. You just need to find the right words.”

For a moment, we stare at each other, taking in all the tiny details of each other. Memories threaten to assault me, and I blink, stepping back.

“If you go pro, you might miss the wedding.” I say, wondering how that would all work out.

“I’ll work it into my contract to be able to be at the wedding.”

Something he’s already thought of then.

I nod, pasting a smile on my face. “Okay, well, I should go.”

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