Page 164 of Jaded

“But aren’t all cycles?” he asks. “Day and night, tides, winter and spring. Life is a cycle, and sometimes the only way we get through the bad is knowing that it cannot last forever and good has to come too.”

I choke on my own tears. Can’t speak through them.

He presses his forehead against mine. Whispers a soft request against my mouth. “On days when you see only darkness, let me be your light. Can I do that for you?”

Snow kisses our cheeks in pinpricks of cold.

“No.” The word pops out of my mouth with surprising vehemence.

“Why not?” His dark brows furrow. “It’s okay to ask for help, you know that, right?”

Something that might be fear flits along the underside of my ribcage, wraps cold fingers around my stomach. “I don’t need help.”

I don’t need people—because needing people is such a dangerous game. To emotionally attach yourself to someone . . . to put your already fragile feelings in someone else’s hands . . . No.

“Asking for help isn’t a bad thing,” Nat continues, those green eyes so bright, so earnest. “God knows I’ve taken enough help from people with raising Syd.”

I shake my head, pull my eyes closed against the green gaze. “It’s different . . . emotionally needing someone.”

“Is it, though? I needed Brenda, and God knows I needed Syd.”

My eyes fly open. “Do you know how dangerous it is to need someone who doesn’t need you back?”

We stare at each other, me and him. Green eyes to brown.

“Who says I don’t need you?” he whispers, and he doesn't blink. “Isn’t that why you’re here now—because you knew I needed you?”

“I . . .” I let the thought trail off. I’m starting to lose sensation in my fingers, and probably my toes, but I’m not about to admit my vulnerability to the cold in front of a Day Riverean. “I’m here because I couldn’t be there when I didn’t know if you were okay.”

“And I wasn’t.” Nat tilts his head back towards the sky, so the white flakes shatter against his tanned skin. “I haven't been okay for a long time. My life was hollow until you showed up. You made me stop and breathe and appreciate each moment. How many times have you helped me with Avery and Syd? You pulled me out of a fight. You made me think that this team might actually make it—that I might actually have a place in the hockey world.”

I’m breathing too hard again, and doing that fast-blink thing like I’m gonna cry.

“I need you, Olli James. I really fucking need you. And I’m asking you to let yourself need me back. Just a little.”

“Damn.” The word tumbles out of my lips. “You sure you’re not a poet, Mouse?”

He laughs, a soft, faded sound. “I’m serious. I need you—and the team needs you too.”

“Right.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” His arm tightens around me, and damn if I don’t melt like an overheated stick of butter. “You belong at the rink.”

“So do you.” And then, I take a gamble. “When was the last time you checked your phone? I bet at least five people have texted you wondering where you are.”

He cocks an eyebrow in that unfairly sexy way he has. “I’m sure more people have texted you.”

“Bet.” But it’s with my heart lodged in my throat that I light up the screen—and nearly fall over. “Forty-seven unread messages.”

“Good fuck.” Nat looks up from the screen of his own phone. “Well, you definitely win.”

“Right.” My eyes flit down row after row of notifications.

Olli? Where are you?

You okay?

Please text me back and let me know you’re okay

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