Page 39 of Goalie Lessons

This seems to hit the mark for Callie—she glances at her little sister, who shows no sign of trying to leave the car—then back at me, nodding solemnly.

“Yes, I will.”

“Thank you.”

I close the door and circle back around to Grayson, who already has my hood popped and is lining up the jumper cables between our two vehicles.

“Sorry,” I say, stepping over them. “I can help.”

“No worries.” And when he looks up at me, his arms braced against my car, the wind pushing his hair back from his face, it damn near knocks the breath out of me. “Only took me a minute.”

“Oh,” I say, through the ringing in my ears. “Right.”

“I don’t get how you do that so easily.”

I blink at him. “What—?”

He lifts his shirt to wipe some sweat from his brow, and I look away, but not before I catch the flash of his stomach where it rides up. To be helpful, my mind happily provides me with the image of my lips, trailing down that very stomach.

“Talking to them,” he says, dropping his shirt and gesturing to the car. “They won’t talk to me. I think they hate me.”

I wish I had something better to say than, “It’ll get easier, I’m sure of it.”

He shrugs, his eyes still on the engine, then he goes through the motions of jumping my battery, hopping back in his car and starting it, getting my engine going. I have jump-started a vehicle before, and I’ve even had boyfriends do it—so why is the sight of him doing it so captivating right now?

It must be because I’m tired, exhausted from the day.

When he’s all finished up, he closes the hood and makes a big show of clapping his hands together, a smile loose on his face.

“Thank you again. And…I’m sorry to drag you out here—”

“Astrid.” He holds his hand up, shaking his head, taking a step toward me. It makes my heart flip embarrassingly. “Really, it’s not a big deal, okay? We’re friends—that’s what friends do. Just make sure you drive her around a bit before parking, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” The words rush out of me, and I study him, trying to figure out why he’s not acting weird after the conversation we had yesterday. The discomfort of it rises up inside me, bubbling in my chest, and I push it down, smiling at him. “Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, crossing over to the door of his truck. “Have a good night, Astrid.”

“You, too.” Raising up on my tiptoes, I say, “Bye, girls! Goodnight!”

Callie leans over Athena to wave at me, and I watch as Grayson tells them to put their seat belts on, before smiling at me one last time and reversing out of the lot.

Grayson

I’mdefinitelygoingtothrow up.

“Don’t throw up,” Callum says, skating up and clapping me on the shoulder, as though I’ve announced news about the state of my roiling gut to the entire team.

Maybe my shaking hands and pale face are enough to give me away.

“Yeah,” Maverick says, laughing and pulling his helmet on. “I’m a sympathetic vomiter.”

“Not helping,” I laugh weakly, and Luca claps his hand on my other shoulder.

“You’ve got it, man.” Luca slows down, looking me in the eyes. “You’ve got it—this is just another pre-season game, right?”

“Right.”

We skate out onto the ice, and they drop the puck to start the game. I keep my eye on the play, shift to keep my body centered, do everything I can to keep my mind on the game at hand.

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