Page 48

Chapter

Forty-Five

JONAS

Evan: So how did the big talk go?

Evan: I’m guessing not well since you’re ghosting me.

Evan: Dude, are you okay? Do you still sleep here?

“Mr. Kaminski!” The sharp tone startles me out of my doze and my head snaps off the smooth laminate wood table. Dr. Price, my nursing practice professor, stands over me, glaring.

Shit.

“This is vital information for your future!” His voice rises in pitch and his dark eyes flash. “Or are you too important to pay attention?”

I shift in my seat, posture ramrod straight, and shake my head. Is there drool on my face? “No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Athletes.” Muttering under his breath, he stalks back to the front of the lecture hall and my cheeks heat.

I hate that I fell asleep, hate that I’m inadvertently fulfilling the jock stereotype.

But I haven’t slept well in weeks. I went for a five-mile run before my classes this morning because I was up early and I thought it would shake me out of my lethargy, but I guess it didn’t. I’m still as exhausted as ever.

Twirling my pen, I pull my notebook closer. No typing—I need to write things down to keep my brain engaged. It’s been so hard to focus lately. Maybe I need to grab some coffee after I survive this class. Although food hasn’t sounded appetizing in a while.

Are these the symptoms of a broken heart? Are we going to learn how to treat this next week? Is there a cure?

Rolling out my neck, I scootch forward to the edge of my hard plastic chair and try to appear like I’m paying attention. Dr. Price is right, after all. It is important information for my future. Now that I’m sure of it, I need to give my nursing classes my all.

With another glare in my direction, Dr. Price reminds us about the assigned reading for the next class and ends the lecture.

I blow out a breath and run my hand over my curls.

He’s pissed—and I deserve it. It’s disrespectful to fall asleep during class, and I’ve rarely let it happen. What’s my problem?

“You doing okay, Jonas?” Clara, one of my classmates, sidles up to me with a wince. She tucks a strand of her straight brown hair behind her ear and bites her lip.

Standing, I nod and gather my materials into my backpack. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

“You sure?” She steps close enough that I see the flecks of gold in her green eyes and puts her hand on my arm. “You haven’t been quite yourself this semester. Wanna grab a drink and talk about it?”

“Um.” I rub the stubble on my jaw and stall for time. Is she being kind or asking me out? I can’t tell.

“Or we can go study a little,” she rushes to say, flushing. “Quiz each other over HESI questions. I just thought maybe you’d want to do something with me.”

A perfectly nice, pretty girl is definitely asking me out. I should say yes. That’s the smart choice, right? Move on from Hadley with someone who would be a better fit. Another nursing major, not the sister of a teammate, not someone who will rip my heart out of my chest. Checks all the boxes.

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be right now. Anytime you’re free or available or interested. Or whatever. If that sounds good.” She’s babbling now, and it’s so painful I should take pity on her and say yes. But I can’t force the word out of my mouth.

Because she’s not Hadley. And no matter how sweet or appropriate for me she is, I would want her to be someone else the entire time. And that’s not fair to Clara.

I shake my head. “Sorry, Clara. I don’t think so. I’ve got too much going on with hockey right now.”

Her face falls, and my stomach pangs at the raw disappointment in her eyes. “Oh, yeah. Okay.”

“Thanks, though.” Pushing past her, I hitch my backpack higher on my shoulder and head to the gym. It’s the only place things make sense.

“Hey, man, I’ve barely seen you. You haven’t responded to my texts.” Evan walks over to me in the weight room, interrupting the rep I was counting. “How’s it hanging?”

Grunting, I count out loud to deter him. “Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.”

I set down my weight to switch to my other arm, but he stands and stares.

“Do you need something?” I ask finally, raising a brow.

Evan takes a step back. “Whoa. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Trying to stay in peak shape for the season.”

It’s not a lie. It’s just not exactly the whole truth. This is the only place I can escape the roaring voices in my head and the ache of missing Hadley.

Evan blinks at me. “Interesting.”

Something about his tone makes me bristle, and my words come out through gritted teeth. “What’s interesting about it?”

He shrugs. “I’m used to the ‘hockey is life’ attitude from Hunter or Mateo. Never seen it from you before.”

I put down my weight and pin him in my gaze. “What are you implying? Because I put the team first all the time. I work out, I watch film, I?—”

“I know.” He claps me on the shoulder, and my ire melts away at the compassion in his eyes. “I know the team means everything to you. But you’ve got to stay balanced, you know?”

I stare at my shoes. This is the sort of pep talk I would’ve given a teammate last year. But I let the team down once, I’m not about to do it again.

“Yeah, okay,” I say, not with any real conviction. Maybe it will get him to change the subject or go away.

Evan clears his throat. “You gonna tell me what happened with Hadley?”

Great. This subject is worse than the first one. I’ve avoided talking to him about this—about anything—for weeks, but I doubt I can put him off any longer.

Glaring, I hop on the treadmill in the corner and run fast enough to deter conversation. But Evan stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, surveying me and waiting for an answer.

“Nothing.” My response comes out a pant. “It’s fine.”

Evan’s stare could burn a hole in my forehead, but I up the pace on the treadmill, pushing until my thighs burn.

“Did you talk to her? Tell her how you feel?” He raises his voice to be heard over the sound of my steps. If I ignore him, he’ll keep asking. I know from previous experience.

“Yes, I did. She doesn’t feel the same way.” I fix my eyes on a spot above his head, not ready to meet his gaze.

“Oh.” His posture deflates. “I’m sorry, man.”

“No big deal. I’m fine, focused on hockey.” I increase the incline on the treadmill, trying to block out this conversation.

“I see that. How’s she doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t talk anymore?” He blinks. “I thought she was your best friend.”

“Nope.” I thought so, too. I itch to know how she’s doing.

I miss the sound of her laugh, the curve of her smile.

I miss hanging out with her and doing something as ordinary as watching TV.

But I’m not ready to see her and not be with her.

“You should text her. See if she needs anything. You know, for Hunter. He’d want us to watch out for her. ”

“Uh-huh. For Hunter.” Evan raises a brow, but his sarcasm isn’t lost on me. He taps the treadmill display. “That’s a pretty tough pace. I get focusing on endurance, but dude, you’re crazy.”

I shake my head, my vision blurring a little at the edges with the motion. “Nah. Gotta push myself. The team needs me at my best this year.”

A wrinkle appears on his forehead between his eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re being healthy about it?”

“What do you mean?” I pant, trying to level out my breaths. I should be able to keep the pace all day, but my muscles ache more with every step.

“I live with you.” He shrugs. “Although I never see you. I’m pretty sure it’s because you’ve been working out constantly.”

“I work out. I also go to class and clinicals. Some of us have a rigorous schedule.”

Evan does not appreciate it when people make fun of him for being a physical education major. There’s always the implication he chose it because it’s easy. It’s not, but most people assume. Most people are assholes.

Do I lean into this to make him mad? Maybe.

He narrows his eyes. “Don’t be like that.”

“Then trust me, I’m okay. Doing what’s best for me and for the team.”

“Are you remembering to eat?”

I huff a mean laugh, ignoring how my body aches everywhere. I need to push past it. “When did you become my mom?”

“I’m just saying, this isn’t like you.”

Like me? Who am I now, anyway? Without Hadley, nothing’s the same. Least of all, me.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, making the word my new mantra. I’ve said it enough lately.

But as I speak, the world darkens at the edges. I see spots instead of the treadmill screen and I stumble, tripping over my own feet. I tumble down, pain lancing my head, and everything goes black.