Page 34 of Rush the Edge

Her jaw drops. “I would not!”

She’s probably right.

With her wrist still trapped in my grip, I lead her toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city. “Jumping jacks.”

The memory plays out right in front of her face. I watch it like my favorite movie playing.

“You’re still doing jumping jacks the night before a game?” There’s the tiniest spark of amusement within her question.

“Yep, and we’re at forty-three. So get to it.”

Thirteen

DAISY

I narrow my gaze.“You are insane.”

Kane’s lip pulls up at the side, and my stomach dips. “Let’s go, Daisy-Petal.”

I wish he’d stop calling me that.

I teeter with the idea of telling him to go screw himself and heading back to my apartment, but there’s something kind of sad about the fact that he’s up here all alone, carrying out his crazy superstitions the night before one of his games like he’s that same eighteen-year-old boy I grew close to years ago.

So much has changed, yet things still feel the same.

“Ugh.” My shoulders fall. “Fine.”

Kane’s blue eyes light up with excitement, and it shouldn’t please me that I’m the reason it’s there.

Get a grip.Kane is a total asshole who has a vengeance against me.

“That’s my girl.” He winks at me.

I’m warm all over, and that isnotgood. “I am not your girl.”

Kane smirks, and then the music cuts back on. His large apartment is surrounded by Marshmello’s beat and my wildly beating heart. I angle away from him because I’m not wearing a bra, and although I’m part of the itty-bitty titty committee, I still havesomebounce.

My lungs start to get tired after thirty jumping jacks, but I ignore the sting in my chest because there is no way I’m letting Kane see me struggling. I’m not willing to let him in on the real reason I’m in Chicago, because he doesn’t deserve to know anything about me.

This is my thing, and he has no part in it.

“Keep going,” he encourages.

He’s jumping with ease. His muscles flex with every jump, pulling my eyes to his abs like a magnet. Kane has always been blessed with a toned body, but now that he’s in the pros and works out daily, his muscles are honed to perfection—a full eight pack, rippling back muscles. Even his back strains with strength.

Stop looking at him.

I pull my attention away and put my best effort into the remaining jumping jacks.

My hair is beginning to dampen with sweat, and by the last few, I’m hardly doing them at all.

I press my back to the window and slowly slide down to the floor.

Kane stands over me with his hands on his hips. “You okay?” There’s barely even a rise in his chest, whereas my lungs are screaming for air.

“I’m fine,” I choke out.

“You can sit on the couch, you know.”

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