Page 79 of Twisted Collide

“Yeah, Hellfire.” My voice sounds lower, huskier.

“Oh, now I’m hellfire again?”

“Well, you’re making me late to my appointment, so yeah, you’re a hellfire.”

“What appointment?”

“The one I’m about to make,” I say, admitting that there is currently no appointment.

“For?” she drawls out, circling her hand as if to tell me to get on with it.

“I need a massage.”

She swallows. “What?”

“I need to book a massage. My shoulder has a knot.”

She takes a step closer, and I see that her nose is scrunched, and her cheeks are pinched in.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Just concerned about you. Can you put the jersey on so I can take pictures of you wearing them and then I’ll grab the signed pictures after?”

“While I appreciate your concern, I just want to sign thesejerseys and get on with my day. But if I must wear it for a photo op, let’s get it over with.”

She tosses the first one to me, and I lift my arm to slide into the jersey. Just as the shirt is being dropped over my head, I let out a groan of pain.

I stop moving, and so does Josephine.

“Are you okay?”

“Hence the needed massage. I pulled a muscle.”

Josephine rushes to me until we are close enough that I can smell the lavender in her soap.

Before I know what’s happening, her hand lifts up, and her warm fingertips are on my skin.

“What are you doing?” I growl. My brain short-circuits from her touch.

“Trying to help you. I thought—”

“That’s the problem, you didn’t think . . .” I’m about to say more, but I wince in pain this time.

“That’s it, let me see.” Placing her hands on my shoulders, she sits beside me.

Even though I know I should object, I don’t. Her touch feels too good as she massages the tight muscles.

The locker room is quiet except for the puffs of air I’m expelling.

The more she kneads, the more labored my breathing gets, but the knot is almost gone, and it seems she won’t stop until the knot no longer exists.

With each second that passes, I can’t help but wonder why I’m pushing her away so hard. Maybe it would be easier not to.

But then I remember her dad, the way he helped in those early years, and how much I needed him.

Being good might be more painful than the pulled muscle.

31

---