Page 10 of Puck to the Heart
“I thought it might help.” Her voice sounded miffed, so I cracked my eyes open to find she indeed looked affronted. Her shoulder jerked upward as she turned back to her purse. “We’re friends now. I assume helping is something friends do,” she explained.
“It does, thank you. You surprised me.” I held out my hand and accepted the water bottle she offered. My heart sank as the limo’s headlights rounded the building.
No matter how badly it began, now, I didn’t want this night to end.
Sweat gatheredinside my nitrile gloves and dripped down the lines of my palms, but only a few vials remained to fill, and once I finished those, I could get back to my actual job. Without interns or help from Brad, simpler jobs like prepping batches of solvent before running quality tests on a new formula always fell to me. Bluetooth earbuds, long since dead, helped block out the beep of someone’s forgotten timer, making me even more eager to get the hellout. Gritting my teeth, I filled the final few vials, covered and labeled the tray, and set it aside before yanking off the gloves and massaging my clammy hands. Tension settled between my shoulder blades as I sank onto a stool, the long week weighing me down in a single, Brad-shaped instant.
A loud, cracking whoosh echoed through the lab as he sauntered in, opening an enormous neon energy drink.
“No food or drinks in the lab,” I reminded him for the millionth time, wondering how much effort it would take to knock him over and steal the can without spilling it. I, at least, would drink the damn thingoutsidethe lab.
“I’m near the door. It’s fine.” A cocky grin nowhere near as convincing as Ash’s flashed as Brad leaned back against the door.
“Safety officer.” I pointed at myself. “It’s not procedure. Out.”
“Damn, sugar, I came here to tell you a package came in for you, but if you’ve got PMS, never mind.”
Idiot. “Thanks ever so much, Brad. I appreciate the newsflash.” As usual, he didn’t pick up on the sarcasm.
“That’s what I thought.”
Why wouldn’t heleave? “Oh, look. It’s almost five.” I glanced at my bare wrist.
“Yep, you’re lucky I caught you. I was on the way out.” His floppy, dirty-blonde hair fell in his eyes as he watched me tidy the space. Smug bastard, showing up with his energy drinks and self-satisfied good deed for the day, so of course he didn’t offer to help.
“Don’t let me stop you.” Saccharine laced my tone, falsely sweet.
“Catch you later, Sweetcheeks.”
I flipped him off as he walked away.
Fifteen minutes later, I had everything neat again, with all the syringes and pipettes back in place, and I entered my office, sinking into the squeaky desk chair. On my desk sat a neatly wrapped package in navy paper with a forest green, gold edged ribbon tied in a fastidious bow but no label or card.
Curiosity piqued, I slid my fingers beneath the bow, tugging it off the paper slowly, unwilling to tear something so lovely. With a little pressure, the tape on the seam opened, and the deep blue paper fell away in a perfect sheet. The white box inside held a familiar logo, and my stomach lurched.
Inside the box was a paperback, a historical romance, with a small hand-written card peeking out between the pages.
Barnes,
Bring this to the game in case you get bored again. I think I’m pretty entertaining, but I’ve heard reading at hockey games is more fun.
—Ash
Beneath the book lay an envelope, in which were two tickets to the Knights’ game on Saturday. My nail scraped along the thin edge of the cardboard as I flicked one with my thumb; I’d have to give the tickets away—my dad was flying in from Raleigh for a few days. Debating on whether it was worth it to ask if Brad wanted them, I absently pulled my phone out of my bag and found a missed call from my father.
Shit, shit, shit. Normally, I received notifications on my smartwatch, but the battery died before I left for the lab, and I left charging at my desk.Shit.Bile rose in my throat as I scrambled to unlock my phone with trembling fingers.
With the entire continental U.S. separating us, my mind always went straight to the worst-case scenario. If something happened to him…
“Livy! Hi, kiddo!” He sounded raspy, but hearing his familiar voice twisted a valve in my chest.
Dad was all I had, and if I missed a call when he needed me, if something happened?—
“Liv.”
My father’s voice snapped my mind out of the spiral, but my body missed the memo. A gasping breath left my mouth. I tried to play it off. “Dad, hi!” Instead of sounding cheery and nonchalant, it sounded more like a croak. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Well, there went nonchalance, right out the window.
“It’s nearly six there, I thought you’d be on your way home by now.”
