Page 132 of Unsteady

“But I—”

She holds up a hand. “My son has more protectiveness stacked into his body than he knows what to do with. It makes him a good hockey player, it makes him a good friend, and it makes him a good son. But with you? I know… he wants to protect you more than anything.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

She sighs deeply, running a soft hand over my cheek and straightening the hair around my ear.

“Because I wish there had been someone there to tell me it was okay to ask for help, and that I wasn’t weak or a burden to accept it.”

She starts to stand, to allow me to leave for my practice, before I stop her.

“Do you know any Russian?”

“Only a little. Not as much as Rhys or Max; language was never my specialty.”

“Do you know whatkotyonokmeans?”

She laughs, smiling wider than I’m sure I’ve ever seen. “It means kitten, my love.”

My skin blushes and I have the urge to call him now, and threaten him as much as tell him I love him.

But it can wait. Even still, I’ve had enough space. The second he gets back, I’ll tell him.

* * *

Practice is brutal.

And my ankle is throbbing—I’m almost positive I’ve sprained it, but Coach Kelley won’t let up for a fucking second. I try to put pressure on it again, my head spinning as I look at the stadium clock and see we are well past my two-hour mark.

He’s refused every water break I’ve asked for, ignored my complaints, and now, I’m pretty sure he’s injured me.

“I can’t.”

“You can. Do the fucking jump again.”

I limp-skate towards where he stands to block my exit to the tunnels. Close enough to see the fury in his eyes, before I try to skirt past him again.

He grabs my wrist,again.

“Is this about the boy again? The pathetic little hockey player?”

“This is about youhurtingme. My ankle is killing me. Please, I need just a few minutes.”

I don’t sound angry, I realize. I sound like I’m about to cry.

“Don’t be a baby, my terror. Stop being lazy and do the jump again. We will do it ‘til it’s perfect.”

“You’re going to make me seriously hurt myself.”

He grips me tighter on my wrist, before shifting up my arm to leer over me. “Not if you do it right. Again.”

I can’t take it anymore. I don’tneedthis.

“No.”

“Try again.” He grasps my arm somehow harder, twisting enough that there's a sharp pain and suddenly I’m worried that he might break my arm. My stomach drops as I take in exactly how much danger I could be in. I’ve trusted him for years. Now…

A terrified sound rumbles out of me, before I gather the breath to scream.

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