Page 99 of My Merry Mistake
It’s not that I don’t believe the doctors when they say stress can wreak havoc on your body. I know this—in theory.
That’s just something that happens tootherpeople.
And if these articles and doctors are right, and I’m reacting this poorly to stress, then how am I supposed to fix it? It’s not like I can quit my job. Even if I were independently wealthy, I have zero interest in sitting around and not being productive. The source of my stress is still going to be there whether I take a day off or not. In fact, taking a day off makes me evenmorestressed because it’s one less day to chip away at the very long list of things to do.
But I’m not thinking about that tonight.
Tonight, apparently, I’m watching a hockey game.
To my utter horror, every time Finn shows up on the screen, my stomach does a little somersault. I never got that “Oh my gosh, Iknowthat guy” feeling when seeing the team on TV. I mean, I’ve watched a handful of games. It never registered with me before.
Now it’s registering. And it’s unfamiliar and exciting and annoying all at once.
The whole reason for dating Justin is to prevent these kinds of emotional gymnastics.
I turn my attention back to my phone because I need something else to occupy myself with, but then one of the announcers mentions Finn’s name, and it draws my eyes up to the screen.
“Before the game, Dallas Burke told me that Holbrook is an absolutely crucial piece to the health of this team.”
“That may surprise some of our viewers since Holbrook isn’t one of the Comets’ big stars,” the other announcer says. “But he is well-loved among his teammates and the Comets’ fans.”
“He’s a rare kind of player who makes everyone else better every time he’s on the ice.”
There’s a close-up of Finn, who is focused in a way I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. He moves around on the ice, completely engrossed in the job he’s there to do. I watch as he glides so effortlessly, and it’s—stunning, really. Surprisingly so.
“You see something you like there, Raya?” Eloise cracks.
I look up and find both of my sisters watching me watch Finn.
I clear my throat and look away. “Nope.”
The game starts, and they both disappear into it the way our dad does when he watches. It’s hilarious because once upon a time, they both disliked—and didn’t understand—this sport as much as I do. Now, there’s a lot of gasping and hollering at the TV.
I pull out my phone and scroll, thinking maybe I should text Justin. Only . . . I’m not sure what I would say.
I already sent him the details for Thanksgiving.
We’re getting together Wednesday, so I can explain to him who everyone is, and really, what else is there? We’ll never be two people who need to know what the other is doing at all times.
And that’s the point. I don’t want to miss him when we’re apart.
“And Holbrook takes an elbow to the jaw!” the voice blares from the television.
I glance up in time to catch a replay of Finn getting in between a player from the other team and Gray.
“That’s what he does,” Eloise says, more to herself than anyone else. “He keeps the path clean.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
“He protects the other guys,” Poppy says. “Dallas says he’s their most selfless player.”
I can see that, actually. He might be all wrong for me, but it’s not hard to believe this about Finn.
“So . . . tell us about this new guy,” Eloise says. She picks up a chocolate cream puff and shoves the entire thing in her mouth. She almost instantly realizes this was a two-bite snack and covers her mouth with her hand as she chews.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, hoping they ask softball questions.
She shrugs, still chewing.
