Page 99 of Hat Trick

“No,” I huff, offended. “But I’m more careful thanthat. Jesus. You’re like a goddamn windstorm.”

“That’s why you have your own bag to open. You can do whatever you want with it.” She grins and looks down at the book on her lap. “Business Building 101: How to go from Nothing to Something.”

“You, um, mentioned you thought about starting your own Pilates studio one day. I don’t know the first thing about creating a business, but according to the internet this book does. I know it’s stupid, but I?—”

“How do you remember all the things I say?” Lexi’s gaze meets mine. “The limes. My dreams for a studio. That I played basketball when I was younger?”

“I listen,” I say.

“Most people—” She stops herself mid-sentence and hangs her head. “No one ever listens.”

“Because they suck. You shouldn’t…” I trail off, not wanting to sound like an asshole who is telling her what to do. “Don’t spend your time with people like that.”

“This is really thoughtful, Riley.” She traces over the letters in the title and curls her fingers around the spine as she brings it tight to her chest. “Thank you. I can’t wait to read it.”

“You could also use it as a doorstop. No pressure. I’m not sure how useful it’ll even be, so?—”

“Just say you’re welcome, Mitchy.” Lexi laughs. “It’s perfect. I don’t want to use it as a doorstop.”

“You’re welcome,” I mumble, embarrassed she actually likes the gift.

“It’s your turn.” She jumps on the table next to me, sets the book down, and scootches the bag my way. “There are two things in there.”

“Wait a second. We didn’t say anything about the number of gifts,” I argue.

“Exactly. We didn’t set a limit.” Her grin is sly, and it’s a shot to the chest. “Reach to the left first. It’s the smaller present.”

I follow her orders and reach into the bag. Lexi boos when I pluck the tissue paper out and neatly set it aside, and I burst out laughing. My fingers brush the corner of something sharp, and I pull out a glass picture frame.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s your Life List from our meal at the diner. I saved the napkin and framed it so you could have something to look at when you get out of bed in the morning. Good days and lots of memories to be had.” She shrugs, color creeping up her neck, and her dark hair curtains her face. “I figured when you accomplished something on the list, you could take it out, cross it off, and add something new.”

“Wow.” I rub a hand over my shirt and touch the glass, smiling at her swoopy handwriting and the ketchup stain in the corner. Everything I mentioned is there, forever immortalized on the unfolded piece of paper. “This is perfect.”

“It could also be used as a doorstop if you?—”

“Shut up.” I reach over and poke her side. She squeals and bats my hand away, almost falling off the table in the process. She grips my left thigh to steady herself, slow to remove her hand when she’s back upright. “I’m serious. This is really thoughtful. Thanks, Lex. I’m going to hang it in my bedroom.”

“I’m glad you like it. Open the next one.”

I put the frame on top of her book and yank out a big box out of the bag. I flip the top open and blink down at a pair of brand-new Bauer skates.

“What—” I swallow, throat unbelievably dry. “Skates?”

I shoved all of mine in the hall closet after I got home from the hospital. I haven’t looked at them since, too afraid the ghosts from my professional athlete past might come out and haunt me if I stare at them for too long.

“I’ve been working with their skate rep,” she starts, and I hear the tint of nerves in her voice. “I mentioned who the skates were for and how you need two different sizes now, and after talking with your prosthetist about your foot measurements, I ordered a pair. They’re, um, custom. The left is the size you used to wear, and the right is slightly smaller to fit your prosthetic foot. I lied the night of the gala. I know your feet aren’t the same size anymore, but I didn’t want to let on about your gift.” Her smile turns sheepish, shy. “I also like to hear you talk.”

“Shit.” A tear escapes from my eye, and I wipe it away with my thumb. “Lexi. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s a whole lot of fucking something.”

“I-I want you to be comfortable when you get back out there, and you won’t be comfortable in what you were skating in before. I also thought new skates, new journey? Maybe.”

I squeeze my eyes closed and drop my head back. The fluorescent lights above me don’t help, and before I know it, my shoulders are shaking. A sob works out of me, and Lexi’s arms wrap around my middle. She lets me cry, holding me until I’m out of breath and the tears stop falling.

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