Page 10 of Unsteady

“Yeah, you’re definitely not driving, hotshot.”

“What are you even doing here?” he asks, but there’s no bite to his tone, just mild curiosity. “My—I was told no one would be here this early.”

Technically, no one is allowed to be.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, because I wasn’t here this morning. Just likeyou, hotshot, didn’t have a panic attack and nearly pass out alone on the ice.”

He grimaces, but nods, walking carefully with his bag on his shoulder and his other hand braced almost painfully on my shoulder.

“No onewas here this early,” I concede, with a pleasant little smile on my lips. “Which is the only reason I’m going to help your big ass to my car and get you wherever it is you need to go.”

“I can drive, honestly. I just need to sit in there for a few.”

I don’t want him to drive, but I know at any moment now Coach Kelley and the rest of the summer staff will start arriving, and I can’t,god—if I get any more demerits this year…

Stop.

Shaking my head, I straighten. Going down that path will only lead me to my own cryfest in the car and speed skating through my ice time while throwing sloppy jumps.

This year won’t be like last year. This year is going to be better.

“Alright, if you swear.”

He nods again and seems to try a charming sort of boyish smile.

We push through the doors of the ice plex, stepping into the cool morning. My beat-up Jeep Cherokee looks almost ridiculous next to his sleek black BMW, but I manage to keep the snide comment on my tongue from tumbling out.

Releasing him once he has a hold on the driver’s side door, I clasp my hands together and rock back and forth on my heels.

“Thanks,” he begins, looking at me with that same searing, annoying intensity. He looks less vulnerable now, almost tired but forcing some sort of mask. “I genuinely app—”

“Save it.” I hold my palms up to stop him before he can irk me anymore. “I wasn’t here and neither were you. Don’t worry, hotshot.”

His brow furrows, the same sadness from before etching back into his eyes and for a moment, I hate it. Every word out of my mouth towards him is infected with taunting, and I can hear it but I can’t stop it.

I wait for him to chew me out, or push back, but he just looks tired.

“Right. Well… I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

The vulnerability slips slightly as he sighs, unlocking his BMW to slide in. Something is churning in my stomach, almost like I’m going to be sick the longer I stare at his open face, so I turn on my heel in a haze and march back towards the doors.

And no matter how deeply I want to check on him once more before I head back in, I keep my head on straight. The urge to tease and kiss away his despair is too great, and it will only end poorly for me.

“Not if I see you first,” I mutter beneath my breath. A little vow to myself to steer clear of the boy with the sad eyes before I try to take his healing into my own hands.

THREE

RHYS

Since the accident, waking up drenched in sweat has become my new normal, so it isn’t a surprise when I turn over to ice cold, soaked sheets. Whatisa surprise, is the soft voice of my mother, not my alarm pulling me from yet another night terror.

“Shit,” I mumble, blinking through the bleary smear of moisture over my eyes.

My mother is leaning over me, her hand brushing the side of my face where I’ve turned towards her voice.

“You’re sleeping on your stomach again,” she begins, keeping her voice soft like she has been for the past months. It makes my chest clench tight because that isn’t like my mom—she is loud and invasive, and this summer of my demons has turned her into …this. “You really scared me this morning.”

Shit.

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