Page 189 of Skate the Line

“I’m fine,” I reiterate with a smile. “I promise.”

She looks at Rhodes.

He scoffs. “She’s just like you.”

Scottie, with her blonde hair piled on top of her head, places her hands on her hips. “He doesn’t mean that as a compliment. He means that you’re acting as independent as I do when it comes to someone taking care of me.”

I frown.

He isn’t wrong.

“I still take it as a compliment,” I say.

Rhodes rubs his hand over his scratchy face. He looks exhausted. His hair is tousled, like he’s run his fingers through it a million times, and he’s wearing nothing but a thin Blue Devils hoodie and a pair of shorts.

“Do you want to stay?” Rhodes asks Scottie. “It’s late, and the team won’t be back until morning. You can take Sunny’s bed.”

“Wait, what?” I ask.

“You have a concussion,” Rhodes reminds me. “I have to keep an eye on you.”

Scottie looks at me, and we catch each other's eye.

Call it girl intuition, or whatever you want, but it’s clear that she knows something neither Rhodes nor I have admitted to anyone.

“Yeah, I probably should.” Scottie tries to hide her smile. “If it’s okay?”

My thoughts of Rhodes and his attentiveness scatter. “Of course.” I slowly walk toward the stairs. “You can use any of my stuff if you want to shower?—”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Rhodes’s hands fall to my hips, and I pause.

I glance over my shoulder and meet his intense gaze.

“To get Scottie settled?”

He flicks a brow. “Taking care of others still, I see.” He looks over at Scottie. “You know the way, yeah?”

She laughs and slides past us. “Yeah, I’ll see you two in the morning. Come get me if you need something.”

I say goodnight to her, and when she’s out of sight, Rhodes gently scoops me up into his arms and begins to carry me up the stairs. I snort quietly. “Rhodes, you are being ridiculous. I can walk!”

He shushes me and follows it with, “Tikho.”

My lips clamp together, and I do as he demands and stay quiet.

Stopping in front of Ellie’s room, we both peer through the crack of the door and see that she’s peacefully sleeping in her bed with her nightlight on.

“She doesn’t have a scratch on her,” Rhodes sighs in awe.

“That’s because she has a guardian angel.”Her mother.

“I think you do too,” he says.

My own mother comes to mind—and Gramps. I smile at the thought of them both.

Bypassing his bed, he takes me right to the bathroom and slowly sits me on the vanity counter. He keeps the light off andbrushes my hair away from my face, careful not to touch the butterfly strips on my cheek from my cut.

“Does your head hurt? I figure keeping the lights off is best.”

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