Page 94 of Skate the Line

I reach over hesitantly, knowing I’m totally invading his privacy, and pull on the drawer.

My jaw falls. I freeze like I’ve been caught robbing a bank.

Condoms.

Lots of them. I start to sweat.

I peer at Ellie’s sleeping body, hopeful she doesn’t stir and catch me poking around.

The last thing Rhodes needs is Ellie going into school and handing out condoms mistaken for candy or something.

I push the drawer closed and refuse to think of Rhodes and condoms in the same sentence ever again.

My phone vibrates on my lap, and I jump.

I’m not guilty of anything.

Oscar: You can sleep in there with her. I know how clumsy you are. I’d hate for you to hurt yourself carrying her to bed and end up at the hospital again without me there to hold your hand.

Me: Clumsy? I am not clumsy.

Rude.

But also, I am not going back to the hospital.

Rhodes asked them to use dissolvable stitches on my finger simply so I wouldn’t have to go back and get them removed.

Which is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

Me: But thank you. If we stay here, I’ll make sure to wash the sheets tomorrow before you come home.

I put my attention back on the TV. It’s well after the game by now, so some late-night hockey recap show is on with three men wearing ties, talking stats. I perk up every time I hear the name Volkova. When they start talking about other teams in the league, I quickly shut the TV off. The last thing I want to see on the screen is the face of someone I wish to forget.

I lie in Rhodes’s bed with one hand on Ellie and the other on my phone. My sleepy eyes flutter with an incoming text.

Oscar: Don’t.

My brows furrow.

Me: Don’t what?

Oscar: Don’t wash the sheets.

I roll my eyes. He is so adamant that I don’t clean or do anythingextra,but when Ellie is in school, what else am I supposed to do? Aside from painting and making silly little claytrinkets for Ellie, there isn’t anything to fill my time. It’s not like I can go back to how things were before and become a viral sensation with my painting timelapse videos. There may be a few still floating around on the web, but I’ll make sure there aren’t any new ones.

Not when anyone could access them.

Not whenhecould access them.

Plus, I don’t think Rhodes understands that this is justme.I grew up helping my nana whenever I could—or anyone, for that matter. It’s just who I am.

Another text comes through.

Oscar: I wouldn’t mind my sheets smelling like sunshine.

My heart skips a beat.

Did he mean to text that?

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