Page 34 of Captured Love

I shrug with my good shoulder. “I'll be fine.”

The doorbell rings, and I feel a wave of relief. Not that I don't appreciate Blaise's concern, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I get up and open the door to see my sister, Willow, standing there.

“Hey,” Willow says and gives me a small smile. She steps inside and I close the door behind her.

Blaise stands there with a wide grin on his face. “Willow, good to see you again.”

It’s then that I remember that they briefly met once, maybe a year ago, when she stopped by the room Blaise and I shared on campus to drop something off. I wasn’t there, so he grabbed it for me.

She removes her knit cap, shaking out a cascade of dark hair, and gives Blaise a once-over. “Yeah, you too,” she says, but I can see that she really wants to say, ‘And why are you here?’

“We were just talking about my shoulder,” I tell Willow, hoping to shift her focus from Blaise. “Blaise thinks I should sit out longer.”

“What happened?” She tilts her head as her eyes shift between my shoulders.

Oh. I forgot I didn’t tell her. “I got injured a couple of games ago because of some cheap shot by the other team. I’m fine.”

“Well, I think you should listen to your body,” Willow says, looking at me intently. “You only get one shoulder.”

“I mean, technically I have two,” I add.

She rolls her eyes at me, but she’s right, of course. And that’s not something I’m going to admit in front of them.

Blaise chuckles, probably the only one in the room feeling comfortable at this point. “He's got a point. Balance is key in our line of work.” He winks at Willow, who remains stoic.

I can almost see the tension lines forming around Willow's mouth. She’s never liked jocks, not since high school when she dated a football player who broke her heart and then laughedabout it with his buddies. Let’s just say he quickly learned his lesson.

I clear my throat, trying to stop the awkwardness that is quickly growing. “Blaise, don’t you have class or something to study for?”

He raises an eyebrow, knowing a dismissal when he hears one, but shrugs it off. “Yeah, I should get going.” He picks up his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. “Knox, take care of that shoulder and I’ll see you later. And Willow,” he pauses, giving her a genuine smile, “nice seeing you.”

As soon as the door closes behind him, Willow turns to me. “Does he always hang around this much?”

“He’s my teammate and he lives here,” I say, as if that explains everything.

“I guess that’s true. Anyway, are you ready to head out?”

“Yeah, and I’ll drive.”

“Are you sure you can drive with that shoulder injury?”

I sigh. “I’m fine, Wills,” I say as I grab my coat from the back of the couch and slide it on carefully. Willow eyes me, probably noting how gingerly I treat my injured side. She doesn’t say anything else though.

As we step outside, Willow puts her cap back on, and I notice how tired she looks. Her eyes have the faintest of shadows beneath them, like bruises that are just starting to form.

We reach my sedan, and I manage to open the driver's side door without too much struggle. Willow slides into the passenger seat and rubs her hands together to warm them up.

I start the engine, and it roars to life with a familiar growl. Turning on the heater, I glance over at Willow. “You doing okay?”

She shrugs. “Just a lot going on with school right now.”

I know she’s lying, or at least not telling the full truth. Willow has always been able to juggle schoolwork like a pro, evenwhen she was taking twice the course load of a normal student. Something else is eating at her, but I don’t push. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my sister, it’s that she’ll talk when she’s ready.

The drive to downtown is short and thankfully not painful. We park near the new restaurant I suggested we try out. It’s called Bean & Leaf, and one of its highlights is that its interior is all reclaimed wood. The warm, rustic ambiance reminds me a bit of Brewed Beginnings yet it’s still different. And thankfully it’s warmer in here than it is outside. A hostess greets us and seats us immediately, handing us menus that are more like wooden tablets. The place is semi-packed, the kind of busy that makes you think a restaurant must be doing something right.

Willow and I take off our coats, and I notice she’s wearing one of the flannels Dad gave her for Christmas last year. It’s too big on her, but it looks comfortable.

I glance at the menu and see a list of artisan sandwiches and salads, along with a variety of teas and specialty coffees. “This place looks legit,” I say. “What are you thinking?”

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