Page 98

“What do you mean?” This guy. I bench press his body weight and he’s sitting here laughing at my pain. “She specifically broke up with me because our relationship was distracting her from her job.”

“Dude,” he says, standing up, “I’m sure you’ve dated way more girls than I have. But what she told you is nonsense. She didn’t break up with you because she’s distracted. She broke up with you because she’s scared.”

“Shit,” I mutter. “That’s exactly what Nadia told me.”

He slings his backpack over his shoulder. “Well, good luck, man. She’s a great girl. I just want her to be happy and if you make her happy, I hope it works out.”

With my mind reeling, he walks away. “Hey,” I call, jumping up and following him. “You mean that about making Twyler happy?”

“Absolutely.”

I grin and clap him on the back. “Then I think there’s something you can help me with.”

* * *

“Want me to add five more?”Jeff asks.

“What?” I ask, dragging my eyes from the door. I see he has two five-pound weights in each hand, waiting to add them to the bar. “Oh, yeah, do it.”

We’ve been in the weight room for thirty minutes, but there’s no sign of Twyler. Coach Green is here and has been working with one of the rookies on the mat. It’s possible she’s in the back, but I resist the urge to go find her in the supply closet.

She and I have been orbiting each other since the fundraiser, both existing in the same space, but never colliding. I want to prove to her that I’m okay with her attention being on her job, the same way I’m focused on mine. Our first regular season game is this weekend and all I want is to cap off my senior year with a trip to the Frozen Four. That starts on Saturday.

But even with my focus on the game, she’s never far from the forefront of my mind. Especially today. I have something to ask her.

“Jonathan,” Coach Green calls out, and the equipment manager emerges from the locker room. “Can you grab me a bandage from the supply closet? They’re in the red drawer. Perkins marked everything.”

That blows that theory.

Maybe she had something for class. Or she’s sick?

“Dude!” Jefferson taps on the bar with this fist. My eyes draw up to my friend’s annoyed expression. “Are you lifting or staring into space all day?”

“I’m lifting,” I grumble, gripping the bar and lifting it over my head.

The next day I’m even more determined to see her. I show up early for morning skate, iced coffee in hand. The coffee shop doesn’t open until later, so I made a pot before bed and let it cool overnight. A literal ice breaker.

Using my keycard to get in, the building is quiet, but I know she likes to arrive before the team. Music comes from the training room and my heart thuds. I know that once we finally talk—once I make my gesture, this will be it. I reach around the door and knock.

“Morning, Sunsh—”

I stop short, the ice sloshing in the cup, when I see a guy sitting at the desk going through player files.

“You’re not Twyler.”

“I’m not.” He gives me a friendly smile.

“Who are you?” I take in his WU collared shirt and joggers.

“I’m Cameron,” he offers his hand. “And you’re Reese Cain, captain of the team, senior and forward. It’s an honor to be assigned to work with you and the team.”

I don’t shake his hand, mine are full, the cold drink sweating against my palm. “What do you mean ‘assigned?’”

“Temporarily—for now at least.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “The person that had this internship told our advisor she needed some time off.”

“Time off? For how long?”

He shrugs. “I really don’t know. I’m a semester behind so I wasn’t eligible for an internship when they were assigned last spring. When this opportunity came up, my advisor had me fill in.”