Page 46 of Facing the Line

She gasps at my admission. “How dare you!”

“Hey, you asked!”

Nothing has changed between us—we can still hang out and have fun. And if every now and then I brush a soft kiss to her neck, well, there’s no one else here to see. No one else to hear her breathy little gasps that hit me straight in the groin.

But I don’t take things any further, and when the episode ends, she turns to me, gaze expectant. “Well, what did you think?”

“You’re right, it’s not likeAmerican Idol.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of me!” Faux outrage spreads across her face, and god, goofing off with her is the brightest spot in my day.

“I’m not! I didn’t say anything about the caliber of people who may or may not watchLove Island.”

“But you thought it in your head.” She raises her brows, challenging me, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Well, maybe. But the weird thing is, I’d watch another episode.”

“Oh, no.” Setting aside her laptop, she stands and brushes off her hands. “You’re new to this. You have to pace yourself.”

She holds out her palm to help me up, but I’m pretty sure I’d pull her over if we tried that. I give her a five instead and haul myself off the floor. Maybe we can order a couch online and skip the furniture store. But this is not a sustainable solution.

“Like conditioning?” I ask, sniffing my armpit. It’s not pleasant. I should have showered right when I got home instead of getting distracted by her.

“Yes, exactly like that.” She adjusts her messy bun, but her hair still falls out of it in streams of tempting blonde tendrils. “Speaking of, did you go straight from the hospital to the gym?”

“Yes.” Her eyes widen at my defensive tone, and I wince. “Sorry. That was unkind. I gotta keep pushing myself.”

Hadley narrows her eyes. “I thought players usually took some time off in the summer.”

“Yeah, but…” I swallow. “I don’t want to lose any ground. Plus, my nursing degree…” Trailing off, I run a hand through my hair.

The pressure of the future looms like a storm on my horizon. I don’t tell her I pushed myself too hard because I’m still so guilty over losing us the Frozen Four game. That whenever I go to the gym, all I can do is punish myself for it. When I focus on the intensity of my workouts, I control the forces surrounding me and I can handle it.

I shrug off her concerned eyes, playing it cool. “I have to be in top form next year, you know?”

Hadley nods. “Yeah, it’s wild. Professional athletes work so hard to stay in shape. People who are outside the sports world truly don’t understand.”

It’s easy to forget about her connection to the game, but the casual way she talks about it hits me. She’s grown up around professional athletes, first with her dad and now her brother. That’s what she expects. She assumes of course I will try for a career in the NHL. Why would I do anything else?

Lately, I don’t know. I want something more, something deeper. Not a life of entertainment and being a slave to the game, but a life spent making a difference. Being in the pediatric ward, providing help and care to kids like Emma who need it lights me up inside. It’s the same way I feel when I play hockey—or used to, before anxiety took hold.

I’m good at nursing. I made a little boy smile today when I drew his blood. He didn’t like the process, but he stopped crying and smiled when I joked around with him.

But I’m good at hockey, too. And professional athletes can have influence in their communities. Creating non-profits and raising money for those in need. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. How am I supposed to know what path to take?

I don’t tell Hadley any of this. Instead, I clear my throat. “Yeah. It’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“I know what would help.” Her voice drops to that husky register and my mouth goes dry.

“What?” I take a step towards her, putting my hands on her waist.

She opens her mouth to tell me as the door beeps. One of our roommates is putting in their code to unlock it. We spring apart.

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.” Hadley gives me a flirty wink and flounces off, and god, I hope she does.

Chapter

Twenty-One

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