Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
That’s a lie.
He has another game coming up in two days. Then another after Christmas. They’re important games, especially after the last few rough ones. I could ask him what happens next for us. I could mention the long-distance thing. I could say I want us to make this work. But what can I offer him right now that’ll settle him? Nothing. I’m still in limbo. I don’t know if I’m staying or leaving.
But I know this—I’m not the one trying to play professional hockey in front of twenty thousand people every other day, with media who breathe down my neck, fans who cheer and jeer me, and a father who gives me a hard time.
I do know what that’s like though.
I was raised with it.
From the comfort of my books, I watched that world unfold as my parents focused on my superstar brother. Gave him every opportunity to succeed. They were right to channel their energy into him—look where he is now. At the top of his game. Growing up, he was the plant that required a lot of water.
Me? I’m the cactus after all.
My family barely notices what I do, and really, it’s okay. I’ve always had books and friends. I’ve always done a good job taking care of myself and getting out of the way. My aunt taught me to cook, to bake, to learn, to read. Most of all, she taught me to be independent.
With a cold, stark certainty, I’m sure I have to do for Wesley what I did for my family growing up.
Get out of the way.
With a gentle smile, and I hope, a caring one, I reach for his forearm, rub my hand along the dog and music notes. “But what if you are too distracted by everything that’s happening here? With me? I mean, I’m kind of a lot.”
“Don’t say that,” he says, but it lacks his usual…vigor. His usual bossiness.
“I am,” I insist. “The night you met me I was locked out and half-naked, and you saved me. The next time I lost my short-term rental, and you saved me. Then, you found my list and you offered to do it with me.” Emotions climb up my throat, tightening it in a chokehold. But I try to push past the tears stinging the backs of my eyes. “I’m a lot. You’ve given me a lot. But you need to leave something for yourself.”
His brow knits. “What are you talking about?”
I roll my lips together, fighting off the waterworks, then I dig down and say, “Would it be easier if I finish the list on my own and give you a little time to refocus?”
Time—it’s the one thing we don’t have.
But right now, that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because Wes is quiet again, chewing on that, perhaps.
That’s another sign I’m doing the right thing for him.
Wes is quick and passionate. He doesn’t mull things over. He doesn’t stew. For the first time ever, he’s stuck.
The man is twisted in knots.
I have to give him this lifeline. I throw him some more rope. “You didn’t want to dance in the park anyway, and that’s okay,” I say gently, kindly. “The list is a lot too. I could do it with my friends. I haven’t done anything on it with them. Maybe I should.”
He breathes in deeply, nodding the tiniest amount, absorbing that.
“And the cocktail-mixing class,” I say, exonerating him more. I wave a hand. “Let’s do it another time.”
That’s a futile promise, because we don’t have time.
But he doesn’t correct me so I continue, “Right now, you should focus on hockey.”
He runs a hand down his face, closes his eyes, then breathes out. For a few seconds, I hope so damn hard he’ll resist my overture. But when he opens his eyes, he grumbles, “You’re probably right.”
My heart breaks. But I try to keep it together.
What he doesn’t say next is, “Let me hold you all night. Come to bed with me. Or we’ll figure it out together.”
Instead, he nods to my room and the bed I haven’t slept in in weeks. “I should let you go to sleep.”
What I hear is, “I should let you go.”
42
THE STEP AROUND SKILL
Josie
I’ve spent the last few weeks reading every blog post, watching every video, and gobbling up every article I can find on what to expect in your first pole class.
But Everly also tells me to expect “cardio and fun.”
I need the latter now more than ever as I tiptoe around the townhome on Sunday morning. I am quieter than I’ve ever been, and I use my morning person-ness to my advantage. I successfully avoided Wes yesterday by waking early and exploring the city, then hanging out with Eddie and his husband playing mini golf in the evening.
Today, it will be even easier to avoid Wes since he has a game.