Page 53 of Puck Sweat Love

I nod, trying to take comfort in that. “Thanks, Stone. See you Wednesday.”

“See you,” he says, ambling toward the door. “Keep us in your thoughts. Looks like it’s going to be a bumpy ride for a while.”

Once he’s gone, I gather my things mechanically, my earlier excitement about the weeks ahead overshadowed by worry. As I head toward the parking lot, I can’t shake the image of Tank’s fists pressing into his mat, the way he could barely meet my gaze.

What if he decides this is too much? That a new relationship is a distraction he can’t afford when his career is hanging in the balance all over again?

I wouldn’t blame him. This opportunity means everything to him—his redemption, his future, the culmination of years of hard work and sacrifice. If he thinks what’s happening between us might jeopardize that…

The thought makes my chest physically ache.

I don’t want to believe it’s possible. I want to trust that the love growing between us is stronger than that, but I remember how laser-focused Tank was on his comeback when we first met earlier in the summer. Shane practically had to drag him away from the rink for happy hour with friends.

And yes, what we’ve found is intense and rare, but that might make him even more tempted to bail. Does he have the capacity to navigate an intense connection like ours whilealsopouringevery ounce of his energy into securing his position with the Badgers?

I honestly…don’t know.

I toss my yoga bag into the passenger seat of my car and slide behind the wheel, but I don’t start the engine.

Instead, I pull out my phone and type a quick message, needing Tank to know he’s in my thoughts—Stone filled me in. I’m so sorry things are sucking so hard right now. But I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need—space, support, someone to talk to. Or just someone to hold you and tell you it’s all going to be okay. Because it will be.I hesitate before adding—You’re stronger than even you know, Grunty. I believe in you.

I hit send before I can overthink it, then lean back against the headrest, closing my eyes.

“Please be okay,” I whisper into the quiet car, hoping the universe is listening, and in the mood to help a girl out.

To helploveout, because I am already so gone on this man. The thought of losing him is…

Well, it’s not something I’m going to think about because I know better than to tell myself scary stories about things that might not even happen.

At the studio, Mr. Sniffles greets me with his usual enthusiastic snorts as I unlock the door, his little body wiggling with excitement. I scoop him up, burying my face in his warm fur.

“Hey, buddy,” I murmur. “Missed you too. You ready to teach tonight?”

I’m not, really, but by the time the familiar faces appear and the mats are rolled out, I drop back into the zone. I teach three classes straight without glimpsing at my phone, knowing better than to let myself get distracted.

But when I check my cell after the last student has left, there still isn’t a message from Tank.

“I said he could have space if he needed it,” I tell Mr. Sniffles as we head to my car. “He probably needs to decompress.”

My dog shoots me a sad look that seems to say I’m kidding myself, and what I had with Tank was always too good to be true, but I refuse to let his negativity make me doubt my gut. Or my heart.

My heart knows this is real and rare. And I believe Tank knows that, too.

But will that be enough to keep us together if the rest of his world is falling apart? I don’t know, but I definitely need a Monday glass of wine.

Back at my apartment, I pour myself a generous glass of red and sag onto the couch. Not my usual post-yoga ritual, but today has been rougher than expected.

I check my phone again before I pull together a late dinner, but still…nothing.

Nothing, as I chop vegetables with more force than necessary while Mr. Sniffles circles my feet, hoping I’ll be a messy bitch who drops some treats for him. Nothing, as I eat my stir fry, clean up, and take Mr. Sniffles on his last walk of the night.

Nothing as I get ready for an early bedtime, without Tank crowded into my tiny bathroom with me to brush his teeth for the first time in weeks.

The sight of his toothbrush in the cup next to mine is enough to make the ache in my chest worse. We’ve been moving fast, spending almost every night together, but until now there wasn’t a doubt in mind that this speed was just fine. Fantastic, in fact. Why wait or set boundaries that don’t feel authentic, when it’s so natural—so wonderful—to be together?

But now…

I’m just settling under the covers, Mr. Sniffles curled against my side, when my phone lights up.

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