Page 138 of Break the Ice

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“It was good and full-on at times. I mean, I don’t know anything about interior design, so...”

“You enjoyed it. That’s what matters.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Silence stretches for a beat as I wait for him to say something, when he doesn’t, I ask, “How was the biofeedback session?”

Elijah doesn’t reply, he continues silent, and my blood pressure is going through the roof. Today is important for him. It’s the first day of him teaching his body new ways of dealing with stress. I swear I’m getting dizzier by the second, and if I keep holding my breath waiting for him to talk, I’m going to pass out.

“You left early,” I say.

“I wanted to drop by Dr. Armstrong’s office before my training session.” The quiet tone of his voice is morose, and it instantly sets off alarm bells in my head.

What if last night was too much for him? What if I’ve made him worse... triggered another episode?

Oh my God.

“You had to see the doctor? Why? Is your head hurting?”

“Relax, Fin. Dr. Armstrong’s the team’s psychologist.”

“Oh…”

“Coach asked me to set up a meeting with her after—” He drags in a deep breath. “—the fight with Presley.”

My insides lurch at the mention of my brother.

“I thought that...” When Christina shuffles beside me, I pause. Lowering my voice, I add, “Last night might have been too much. Triggered something...”

“Finley-James, last night was not the problem,” he states with a rough sigh.

“Really? You’re not even a little bit mad?”

“No, I’m not mad.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want me to be mad?”

“No.” That would mean he’d be at odds with Jayden, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to come between them. Ever.

“I lost my shit yesterday when you and JJ were just looking out for me. It can’t happen again. You deserve better. Both of you.”

“Elijah…”

“I really am sorry about yesterday.”

I don’t know where my sudden bravery comes from, but I ask, “Which part?”

The line is silent barring his shallow breaths crackling for a second or two, before he tells me, “The part where I yelled at you.”

“And the rest?” I croak out the words.

“The rest...”

“I know you said you’re not mad, but are you sorry for it?”

“You mean do I regret it?”

“Yes.”