Page 9 of Goal Line (Boston Rebels #4)

Chapter Eight

EVA

“ I told you I’d be skating circles around you this morning,” I call out as I skate past Luke.

Setting myself up for a double lutz with a long glide on my left back outside edge, I plant my right toe pick and use my left leg to propel me into the air with a quick double rotation, before landing on my right back outside edge.

“Holy shit, Evie,” he says, barely audibly. “How is that safe?”

“It was only a double,” I tell him. I could do any type of double jump in my sleep.

Triples are a stretch, and I’ve never been able to do a quad.

It’s a big part of the reason that I switched from singles skating to pairs when I was a teenager—not only do I prefer the more artistic and emotional nature of a pairs performance, but the expectations for jumps aren’t as stringent.

I’ve been a nationally ranked pairs skater since I started with Christopher right after high school, and I was never going to make it that far in singles. My mother was right about one thing: it was the logical choice.

I cross my right foot over my left as I approach him again, then swivel toward center ice, where I go into an upright spin. But I’m only a few rotations in, just starting to really pick up speed, when a wave of nausea hits me. Oh shit.

Uncrossing my legs, I set my outside skate on the ice to slow myself down, and then I lower my body to sit. My ass hits the ice harder than I expect, and I let out a yelp in response to the pain that shoots up the left side of my back.

Luke’s skates come to a skidding stop right next to me, and he drops to his knees, gripping each of my shoulders. “Shit, Evie, what happened?”

I close my eyes, breathing through my nose to keep the nausea at bay. The familiar scent of the ice is mixed with Luke’s scent—he always smells a little musky and a little sweet, like if you crossed sandalwood and vanilla ice cream. “Just got dizzy.”

“Is that . . . normal, now?”

“No. I never really got morning sickness or anything,” I tell him. It’s one of the reasons that I didn’t realize I was pregnant until I was so far along—though maybe the food aversions and low-level queasiness should have clued me in.

His voice is soft, and his palm moves from my shoulder to cup the side of my face. I lean into him as he asks, “Do you feel okay otherwise?”

“I don’t know. That was...weird?” Scary is more like it. My heart is still racing as I remember going into a spin I’ve done thousands of times and feeling sick from the motion. It makes me doubt my ability to train in this condition and, to be honest, doubt myself as well.

“Maybe you need to see a doctor? Do you even have a doctor here?”

“I need to find one. My obstetrician is in LA, but the doctors at the ER in New York told me to follow up with my OB.”

“That was a week ago,” he admonishes. “You haven’t even made an appointment yet?”

I rest my upper body against his chest, letting my cheek fall onto his shoulder.

“I will. I just haven’t looked for someone yet.

It honestly feels like it’d be easier to go back to LA for a few days and see my doctor there.

Or just wait until I go back at the end of the month for a commercial I have to film. ”

“How is flying across the country and back easier than just finding a new doctor?” He doesn’t sound skeptical, just confused.

“I don’t know. Lots of things feel overwhelming right now...” The lump forming in my throat and the tears suddenly filling my eyes have me pressing my lips together. Why am I so freaking emotional?

Wrapping his arms around my shoulders and holding me to him, he stays quiet, giving me the space to process my own thoughts and formulate what to say next.

“I think maybe...it’s some combination of not having a routine now that skating season is over, feeling like I have no day-to-day plan or purpose, hating that you’re in Boston instead of Newbury Falls and we’re not getting to spend as much time together as we normally do during the summers, worrying about what life will be like after the baby.

..” I gulp, unable to continue speaking because the lump is so thick in my throat, I think I might choke.

He smooths his hand along my back, waiting for me to say more. And as it always happens when he does that, my emotions continue pouring out.

“I thought I could handle it on my own, but right now, everything feels so overwhelming. Instead of identifying what I need to do and then doing it, I’m paralyzed by indecision.

The way my whole life is about to change feels almost too big to deal with.

I don’t know how I’m going to tell my parents.

I don’t know what’s going to happen with my skating career.

Christopher and I need to find a new coach, and I need to break that news to my parents too.

And how the hell did I think I was going to be able to train and compete with a new baby? I’ll need childcare and?—”

Luke moves his hand to my chin, gently guiding my head off his chest so he can look at me. I hate the painful expression he has as he gazes down at me, as though seeing me weak like this actually hurts him.

He uses his thumbs to wipe away the tears streaming down my cheeks. “One thing at a time, Evie. Let’s start with getting you an obstetrician in Boston. Let me take care of that for you so you can get the prenatal care you need, and then we’ll worry about the next steps.”

“Luke.” My body shakes as I laugh out his name and tears continue escaping. What is wrong with me? I don’t cry. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I know, but I want to. There’s so little I can do to help you right now. Let me do this .”

I nod, then bring the sleeve of my sweatshirt up to wipe my face, and his hands fall away from my face. I miss his touch more than I should, but it’s better this way.

“Think you can stand?” he asks.

“I think so.” I move onto my knees, and as Luke’s hands grasp my waist, I put one skate under me and stand. I’m still a tad dizzy, but nothing like before. Still, I’m glad he’s holding on to my hips and keeping me steady, just in case. “Thank god, no one else is here to see me like this.”

“Fuck everyone else, Evie. Remember: their opinions don’t matter.”

But they do. “My parents’ opinions matter.

..and they are going to be beyond disappointed.

I can already hear my mom going on and on about me throwing away my skating career because I was careless.

” And, my god, the stupid amounts of money they’ve spent to help make my dreams come true.

The coaches, the travel, the nutritionist and private chef.

..they’ve poured everything into this dream, even when it meant forsaking things they might have wanted, like a bigger house or a family vacation that didn’t include a skating competition.

“And my dad will just do that thing he does...” I let out a watery laugh.

“What thing?”

“The thing where he nods vigorously and says, ‘Okay, okay...this is a new challenge, but we’ll find a way through it.’”

Luke bursts out laughing, and the deep rumble resonates through my soul, dredging up memories of happier times that have me smiling now, too.

“Yep, he’d totally say that,” Luke agrees. “Which makes you pretty lucky, all things considered. The circumstances may not be ideal, but at least you know your parents will still be there for you.”

“But not like yours.” I take a deep breath, then sigh. “Your dad would be over the moon, and your mom would already be designing the nursery. They wouldn’t be upset about it. They’d be thrilled.”

“So true,” he says with a laugh. “But just because your parents may not react the same way doesn’t mean that they’re not going to be happy to welcome this baby into their lives. And to help you figure out how to keep training and competing so you can qualify for the Olympics.”

I can feel my lips turn down at the corners as I shake my head.

“What?” By the way his eyebrows draw together as he looks at me, I can tell he sees the sadness seeping across my face.

“I don’t know. Having to go to the hospital last week shook my confidence in my ability to do this.

I think...” I start to push off my back skate, planning to continue this conversation as we skate back to the door that will lead us off the rink and into the stands, but my back spasms, and I double over in pain.

“Evie!” Luke lunges for me.

I’m afraid he’s going to pull me up to standing and that it’ll hurt worse, so I say, “Don’t!” right before he touches me. With my hands resting on my knees so I can keep my lower back stretched out, I tell him, “Just, give me a minute.”

“What happened?”

“My back seized up.”

“You probably hurt it when you landed on your ass.”

“I didn’t land on my ass. I sat down because I was dizzy. ”

“Sure looked to me like you fell.”

I note his teasing tone and recognize this as a distraction technique. “If you remember, before the dizziness got in the way, I was skating circles around you.”

“Sure you were. Do I need to carry you off the ice?”

I take a deep breath, knowing that it’s going to hurt like hell to stand back up, but that I can’t exactly go about the rest of my day bent over like this. “Could you just give me your hand for balance?”

He extends his hand in front of me, and I gingerly take it, first with one hand, and then with the other, before he raises it slowly so I can bring myself up to standing.

“You need me to help you off the ice?” he asks.

I nod. “Just...slowly pull me along, please. I think the backward motion of pushing off my left skate messed me up, and I don’t want to risk it by trying again.”

He gets me over to the door, and then steps over the ledge onto the rubber mats that line the walkway in front of the stands. I stand on the ice, trying to figure out which will hurt less: lifting and stepping up with my left leg, or leading with my right, and then bringing my left along after.

“How about if I just lift you over it?” Luke asks. Before I can even respond, he brings his hands under my armpits, lifts me straight up, steps backward, and sets me on the rubber flooring.

I try to ignore the way his wrists graze my breasts as he lets me go, but that’s the most action I’ve seen in five months, and my body definitely takes note.

No, I tell myself. I’m not going there with Luke. Ever.

I know it’s just the pregnancy hormones.

I feel like I’ve been raring to go for months now—a more than moderate disappointment, given that I don’t have anyone in my life to fulfill those needs.

And there’s no reason to get my body’s hopes up because I already know Luke doesn’t feel that way about me. Not at all.

He clears his throat, like he can tell I’m imagining what his hands would feel like on me, and my cheeks and neck grow hot in response. “Need some help getting your skates off?”