Page 8 of Fear of Falling

I nodded. “Yeah, back in high school and then into uni. I got hurt my junior year.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

I waved off his apology. “It’s fine. It feels like another lifetime ago. I’m sorry about your ACL, though.”

“I take it you already knew about my injury?” As he ducked his head, it was obvious to me that he was uncomfortable talking about it.

“I did.” I tried to keep my face neutral. I know better than anyone how annoying pity is. It must be worse when the whole world watched you get hurt. “I’m going to tell you a little secret that saved me,” I said in a dramatic whisper as I leaned forward. “Baby aspirin and Pepper paste.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Pepper Paste?”

I smiled and nodded. “Get some cayenne and mix it with either olive oil, coconut oil, or even water to make a paste and put it on your knee for thirty minutes.”

Wyatt stared at me, his mouth agape, like I had three heads. “You’re messing with me.” He shook his head, his skepticism obvious as he leaned against the wall.

“It sounds weird, I know, but trust me. The baby aspirin is easier on your stomach than painkillers they prescribe, and I found it helped more anyway. The paste does wonders, even long after the injury has healed.” I knew it sounded weird using a pepper paste but I swore by it. I couldn’t tell you how it worked but it just did.

“Pepper Paste,” Wyatt scoffed.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” I dared. “And when it works, you can go on national television and tell the world that Josie Scott was right,” I grinned.

“National television?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yep. You can even add a big sign if you’d like.”

Wyatt laughed loudly, looking so free and at ease for a moment. It was damn sexy.

“A sign…noted.”

5

JOSIE

“Hands down it’s Fruity Pebbles,” Wyatt declared. I shook my head in fierce disagreement.

“God, no. It’s Cinnamon Toast Crunch.”

“How can you say that?” he scoffed.

“Because it’s the truth.”

He flashed another handsome grin at me. “I think we need to educate you on cereals.”

“There’s no point when I’m already right,” I shrugged playfully.

Wyatt under his breath as he shook his head, but he was smiling. I had to admit it was amusing that I was stuck in an elevator arguing about cereal with a big-time hockey player. We’d had a few food debates while killing time.

Seriously, though. What kind of person picks Fruity Pebbles over Cinnamon Toast Crunch? A crazy person that’s who.

This was also the guy who’d already stated that tomatoes were gross but liked spaghetti.

Go figure.

“Think anyone’s trying to find us?” I asked after a few minutes. We’d been stuck for three hours now, and still hadn’t gotten any response through the elevator’s emergency speaker.I’d lost almost all hope of someone rescuing us–I was just trying not to think about it.

“Maybe?” Wyatt answered, but there was no certainty in his tone.

Suddenly, I felt the need to get up and move around, and as I stood, I groaned softly as the muscles in my lower back ached from sitting on the floor for so long. I distracted myself by holding my phone up, willing it to register a connection. Extending my arm as far as I could above my head, I moved towards the corner of the elevator and froze as the reception bars shifted from zero to one.

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