Page 31 of Trade Deadline

“You’ve gotta say that since you’re my friend.”

“No, I don’t. You’ve come so far since we started.” He pokes my pec with his finger, causing me to wince and let out a little pathetic whimper. “Look at these! They’re growing back!”

I rub my palm over the sore spot on my chest and pout, then follow him as he leads me to the mats. We go through our typical cooldown routine, and after the final stretch, I flop back onto the floor, closing my eyes.

“What’s on your mind?”

I open one eye to see Nate sitting cross-legged beside me.

“I’m going out with Blaine tomorrow.”

I still can’t believe I agreed to a date with Blaine Olsen.

It’s been a few days since I saw him after the game against Detroit, and I keep pinching myself because in what universe does someone like me, afan, go on a date with a professional athlete who plays for the team they’ve supported since they were a child?

It just doesn't happen.

“Has he told you where he’s taking you?”

“He said he’s got a surprise activity, then dinner at Fire Garden.”

Nate’s eyes go wide, letting out a low whistle. “Boy is pulling out all the stops to impress you.”

My cheeks heat.

Last night, I looked up the menu online and nearly passed out at the prices. Fifty-eight dollars for one dish—that contained two tacos!—which is more than Jacob and I spend on food for the two of us in a week. He had to calm me down because I was on the verge of a panic attack, then we sat on the couch with a spreadsheet and tried to figure out what my budget could be so I could have a nice night.

He may be a rich hockey player, but I don’t expect him to pay for everything, and it's kinda overwhelming because Blaine and I live two very different lives.

“Why are you nervous? Just forget about who he is and see him as any other guy. Yeah, he’s got a cool job and more money in the bank than both of us will ever make in a lifetime, but he’s still just a guy at the end of the day.” He twirls his shoelaces between his fingers. “He’s probably just as nervous as you, if the way he looked the other day is any indication. Also, he might be a complete loser and is actually really boring.”

I chew on my bottom lip, remembering how unsure of himself he was when he came into the shop nearly a week ago and how awkwardly shy he was after the game the other night.

“Plus, you can put a good word in for me with the twin brother,” Nate winks, slapping my shoulder before he stands, holding his hand out to help me up. “Come on, let’s go get a shake.”

* * *

Jacob is sittingat the dining table when I return home from the gym thirty minutes later. Paperwork covers every inch of the wooden table, the crease between his brows growing deeper and deeper as he reads through whatever document he’s holding.

“Hey, what’s that?” I ask, retrieving a glass from the cupboard to pour myself some water.

“The latest statements from the bank,” he sighs. When he looks up, his eyes are puffy and red, his chin trembling.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sometimes it just feels like I’m failing, you know?” he chokes out.

I place my glass in the sink and walk over to him. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, bringing him in for a hug. “You are not failing! Look how far you’ve come. It all started in this very room, and now you have a shop with your name on the front.”

He nods, letting out another defeated sigh. “I know. It’s just overwhelming at times. I see the amount we owe, and while I know we’ve got the repayment plan in place, I just want it gone. I wanna be able to not worry about money and not feel guilty when I want to buy a new pair of shoes or takeout just because I feel like it.” He presses his head against my stomach and lets out a small sob.

As kids, all I wanted to do was be like Jacob. Whatever he wore, I wanted to match. Whatever toys he played with, I wanted them, too. I was like his shadow; wherever he went, I would follow.

I wish I could wish all our problems away and allow the person he is to shine back through. He’s exhausted, mentally and physically, and it pains me because I don’t know what else we can do.

We can’t afford to hire any staff right now, and while he’s taught me how to decorate the less complex cakes, he’s still working insanely long days to keep up with customer demand.

“We’ll get through this, I promise,” I murmur into his hair. “But you’re far from a failure.”

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