Page 15 of Offside Devil

“You’ll be able to reliably stock your refrigerator, that much is for certain.”

I groan and drop down into the bean bag. The beans part beneath me like the Red Sea and my ass hits the vinyl plank flooring hard. “How old is this kid? If it’s someone your dad knows, the kid has to be older, right?”

I try to picture what my days would look like with a ten-year-old. Maybe even a tween. They probably wouldn’t even want me around very much. I’d be more of a chauffeur than anything. That wouldn’t be so bad…

“The kid is four, I think. It’s not one of his friends; it’s a player on the team.”

“‘The team’?” I ask, eyes wide. “You want me to nanny for the kid of some famous hockey player on your dad’s team? Absolutely not.”

“It’s the Phoenix Angels,” she snorts. “Hockey players are chill and normal, for the most part. The guys on the team are lowkey.”

“Not lowkey enough.” I dig myself out of the bean bag and rub my bruised ass with a wince.

“You’re kidding, right? I mean, you wouldn’t really turn down a paying job right now because you’re too shy. Right? Tell me I’m not crazy.”

If I was Taylor, I’d think I was crazy, too. I’ve turned seclusion into an extreme sport.

But I have my reasons.

And Taylor can’t know any of them.

“Thanks for thinking of me, Tay, but I’m good.”

Her jaw unhinges. “You’re ‘good’? As in, you’re good with siphoning your nutrients out of the air like a sponge? As in, you aren’t going to do it just because some people watch the kid’s dad play hockey?”

“Because a lot of people watch the kid’s dad play hockey,” I correct. “But it’s more than that. I just… I don’t want to be a nanny. It’s not a good fit.” Taylor’s forehead creases. I grab her shoulders before she can say anything. “You’re a great friend. If I die of malnutrition, you can carry on knowing you tried your best to save me.”

“That’s not funny, Mira,” she complains with a whimpering laugh.

“I’m kidding. I’m going to be fine. I’ll figure something out. I always do.”

As I shift past her, Taylor mumbles, “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

Once Taylor leaves, I try to shake off her worry. Mine is debilitating enough on its own.

Short of selling my kidney on the black market, I don’t have a lot of options at the moment. I have a few resumes floating around, but as it turns out, my spotty work history isn’t a huge selling point with most employers. And none of them are going to get back to me before the moldy cheese in my fridge turns radioactive.

When my existential panic threatens to strangle me and the walls of my apartment start to close in, I hit the gym down the street.

Try to, at least. But when I swipe my membership card at the door, the light flashes red.

“Try it again,” the girl behind the front desk says between smacks of gum. “The card reader can be so annoying.”

I swipe again, but the LED strip remains a stubborn red.

I see the moment her face falls. Her mouth sours into a pitying wince. “Your membership payment is past due.”

“Oh. Right.” My cheeks are burning the same color as the LED light. “I got paid late this month. The check probably hasn’t cleared. It’s there, but it’s not?—”

“You get one good grace workout,” she interrupts. “Today is free. If your balance is still overdue next time, you won’t be allowed in.”

Shame heats my face and I duck my head, practically sprinting past her desk. “Thanks.”

I slink to the locker room and tape my knuckles. Slipping into my boxing mitts is usually a sigh of relief, but today, they feel heavy. It takes all the energy I have to shuffle out to the mat and get through even the most basic of workouts.

When I’m sweaty and my arms are useless, I limp back to the locker room to grab my stuff for what may very well be the last time. I have no idea when I’ll be able to afford the membership again.

Skipping breakfast and coffee this morning sucked. Nibbling on a piece of molding cheese for lunch was a personal low point. But this? Giving up the gym and the one outlet I have for all of the shit swirling inside of me?

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