Page 110 of Unsteady

“Gray.” He sighs, a giant smile across his face. The trainers go back to their duties now that their center is cleared, so it’s just the three of us. “Come here.”

Two words are all it takes for me to rush him, letting his arms wrap around me and his sweaty head to press against my chest.

“You smell awful,” I say snarkily, a little huff of anger while my heart still won’t stop racing.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” his father says, before he leaves us in the training room alone.

THIRTY-SEVEN

RHYS

She’s perfect.

I can feel a little hint of anger rolling off her and it’s intoxicating. She’s intoxicating.

Sadie Gray is my fuckinggirlfriendnow. I want to shout it in the little room so that my dad, the trainers—hell, the whole building—can hear me.

My mouth opens, desperate to find some reason to refer to her asmy girlfriend,when her little hand smacks me in the chest. Once, twice—before I grip her wrists in one hand and use the other to angle her chin where she’s hiding from me

“I’m starting to think I can’t do this,” she mumbles, closing her eyes. My stomach drops out of my ass, and I can’t stop myself from grabbing her wrists a little tighter.

It’s hockey, that dark, mocking voice that I’m realizing is a version of my own beckons.Hockey makes you something useless and pathetic. She can see what you were before, and she doesn't want this thing you are now. The thing you’ll be forever.

But I’ve been through this before, and as much as I want to use her to push away the darkness, I want to love her more. So I close my eyes and remind myself that I’m okay. I’m healing.

“Sadie.” I breathe, my hand tucking into her hair.

Her eyes blink open, swimming with tears and I take in the sight like a hit to the gut. A hit she makes good on.

“Youscaredme,” she cries—angry and sad, and so beautiful it hurts. “You were just lying there and I-I couldn’t tell if you were okay or alive—”

She smacks me again, just a little flick of her palm to my chest.

I huff a laugh and draw her closer, kissing her cheek.

“I was just doing my Darth Vader impression. Trying to do his death justice.”

She laughs, the sound almost jarring against the red splotches of her cheeks, tears still free flowing. “I thought you weren’t breathing.”

“Dedicated to the role.” I smirk.

She shoves me off of her completely, her brow furrowing as she takes me in again. I take the moment to examine her back, eyes widening and smile broadening at the 51 over the right chest plate of her oversized bomber.

“You look so fucking perfect, Gray. I like the jacket.”

She furrows the divot in her brow further. “Rora made it.”

“I want you in my jersey, too.”

She ignores me, still examining every piece of exposed skin, flickering her gaze between my eyes. “You’re okay?”

I whisper, “I’m perfect, baby.”

The soft name does her in.

Her body slams onto mine, knocking me flat back on the table as she climbs me. She’s layering kisses to me between laughs and sobs, and I think I could stay like this forever, with the comforting weight of her on top of me.

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