Page 32 of Heart of Thorns

Not only was fainting unusual, but the feeling he gave me was too.

I’m weirdly comfortable with him.

Not comfortable enough to tell him that I was in the weight room to spy on his teammates but comfortable enough to consider fake-dating him.

That’s all I’m doing.

Considering it.

“Is that your shirt?”

I glance down to Thorne’s shirt, and my heart beats a little faster. My fingers clamp on to the notebook even harder. “Did you know that the men’s locker room has a state-of-the-art training room attached?”

Lydia scoffs. “No, but I’m not surprised. They’re the favorites.”

I sit up a little taller on the couch. “I want to train.”

Lydia eyes me cautiously, and bless her soul for keeping her gaze focused on my face instead of dropping to my derelict leg. “Train?”

This is wonderful practice for when I tell my parents that I haven’t given up hockey like they assume. I nod at my roommate. Her expression remains even, but I recognize the pity in her blue eyes.

“What do you mean by that?”

My pulse races. “I want to strengthen my leg and play hockey again.”

“But—”

I interrupt her. “I know what the trainers have said,” And I know what everyone will think if I tell them that I’m training toget back on the ice. “But if I train the right way, I know I can do it.”

Lydia paces the living room. She has her thinking face on. The one she wears when she’s studying. “How are you going to do this? I thought your parents put an end to physical therapy?”

They did.

They stopped paying for it because the therapist said I’d likely always have a limp and that I’d never play hockey again. Even with my measly earnings from commissioned paint jobs, I can’t afford private sessions so I haven’t had physical therapy in months. Exercises at home aren’t enough, I needmore.

This isn’t all about playing hockey again either. The fear that secretly resides in the back of my head is that much worse with a body that doesn’t move as fast as it used to. What if I get trapped somewhere again and can’t move quickly? Or what if my arsonist finds out that I’m digging into him and comes to finish the job? How will I fight back or get away?

“I’m going to use the men’s facilities,” I say.

Lydia stops pacing. Her hands fly to her hips. “What? How?”

I shrug. “I’ve got an in.”

She purses her lips. “An in?”

My nod gets cut short with her gasp.

“Oh my God. Don’t tell me you took Ben back.”

The disgust on my face sends her shoulders down to their rightful spot. “It’ll be a cold day in Hell if I ever get back with him.”

Lydia flops on the couch beside me. Her hand falls to her heart. “Oh, thank God. Plus, I heard that he was working his way through the volleyball team.”

I roll my eyes. That thought would have stung a month ago, but now, I’m onto bigger and better things.

Like a fake relationship with the captain of the football team, a way to strengthen my leg behind the scenes withoutanyone dismissing me, and the best part of all? I’ll get insider information on the football team.

One way or another—I’m going to feel safe again whether that means I’m strong and able to fight or flee when neededorI put a name to the person who’s responsible.

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