Page 64 of See You at the Finish Line

Like she realizes she’s touching me, Paige yanks her finger away. I want to grab her wrist and pull her back to me. I don’t, of course.

“Yeah, a long time ago.”

“Is that why you stopped playing hockey?” she asks quietly.

I start in surprise. Has she been talking about me at work?

She must see the shock on my face. “Julien gave me a rundown of everyone at the office when I was working on him,” she explains quickly.

I think that’s disappointment I feel sinking into my stomach.

“No, the ACL injury was before that. I tore it when I played rugby in high school.” Her eyes widen and the trace of disappointment in my gut ebbs.

I know what question is coming and don’t want to answer it, so I start to get to my feet. Paige reaches out and takes my elbow. Her hands are so soft on my skin. I’ll thank her job for that one, especially when I imagine those soft hands on other parts of my body.

My cock is paying attention and I cough, mentally scolding him. Now is not the time.

I wince as I try to put weight on my leg.

“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

“No, I think it’s just tweaked.”

Paige rolls her eyes, a look Isabel has given me a thousand times when she thinks I’m being stubborn. Her hands leave my arm, and I wobble a bit until I can get my balance.

She puts those hands on her hips and looks at me so sternly. Fuck, she’s so cute when she’s mad. Like I didn’t need another reason to fall for her. Who am I kidding? I’ve already fallen.

“You’d rather risk permanent damage than carve out a bit of time to stop by the hospital?”

I laugh out loud. Americans.

“Going to the ER will take at least five hours, and that’s before I’ve even seen a doctor. We’d probably be there for eight hours. Plus, I’m 90 percent sure it’s nothing, and I don’t want to waste nurses’ and doctors’ time. This is not an emergency.”

“Eight hours?” I can see the shock written plainly on her face.

“If I’m lucky.”

“Damn.”

“Yes, but we won’t be bankrupt if we go, so there’s that.”

Paige snorts. “The taxes here take care of that for you.”

“Very true.”

She looks at me and it’s a battle to keep my eyes on her face. It’s not a hardship—she’s beautiful—but damn the athletic wear is hugging her in all the right places.

Her chest heaves with a big inhale, and I mentally high-five myself for keeping my gaze planted on her face.

“I live close to here,” she says, surprising me yet again. Before I can respond, and I don’t even know how I would, she keeps going. “You can come over and I’ll get you some ice. If the swelling doesn’t go down in an hour, I’m taking you to the hospital, deal?”

Easiest decision ever.

“Deal.”

Paige lives close tothe path we were on, so it only takes about fifteen minutes of hauling ass, trying not to put too much weight on my knee. I’m so grateful her building has an elevator—I don’t think I could’ve handled taking the stairs. The confinement of the space on the ride up feels like a cruel joke.

She’s so close but still too far from me as she leans against the opposite wall. I noticed the tattoo right under the ridge of her collarbone underneath her tank top when she arrived at the yoga studio, but I wasn’t able to get a good look at it. Now that I’m closer, it looks like a trio of some kind of flowers. I want to get a closer look.

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