Page 94 of Wild Blades

I track her movements. “A moth?”

She nods and licks her lips, the same ones I finally kissed last night. “You are a singing whale.”

I chuckle. “And you are a bit goofy this morning.”

“And you are up very early.” Finally reaching me, she leans down and plants a soft kiss on my lips, then lies down on top of me.

Folding her arms across my chest, she lays her chin on top of them. Having only slept an hour or so, she still looks incredible this morning. Fresh faced, wearing my white dress shirt from last night, her eyes are sparkling, and she looks as if she’s just stepped off a photoshoot.

I use my free hand to tuck her hair behind one ear to let me see her better. “I have a slammed schedule today. Practice this morning, then I’m driving out to Ash’s training facility for a session with him, then Joe. Thomas wants to meet me there too.” I don’t know why. “Then this very demanding woman who entered my life like a Tasmanian devil wants me to do an interview for an online sports channel this afternoon.” I figure I might as well tell her. “And I want to visit Gretchen as I am tied up for weeks after today. I need to buy flowers.”

Eyes like saucers, her lashes flutter. “I can buy the flowers to save you time.” She stalls, then adds, “I can come with you. If you want, I won’t if you don’t want me to… I…” Stuttering, her cheeks turn pink.

“I’d like that.” I only ever go myself. Although Gretchen lived two hours away at Caulder Creek, I wanted her buried here,which is closer to the arena and means I can visit her as often as I want.

Her head lifts higher as she makes a steeple with her fingers. “Are you sure?” Uncertainty dips her brows.

“Yeah.”Open your heart.The yogi’s words from today’s class bounce to the forefront of my mind. “We can go after this afternoon’s interview. I’ll drive.” I play with a lock of her hair and curl it around my finger.

“You’ll have to drive. I don’t have a car.”

“What?” My brain explodes at that revelation. “You don’t drive?”

“I have my license. But I don’t need a car. I have a driver.”

“You are so bougie.”

“I never needed a car before. Every city I lived in always had a great transport system. But, and this is not a brag, but from the minute I signed with Fame, the most prestigious modeling agency in the world, and after my first runway in Paris with Givenchy, my career blew up and I was escorted to and from every show, photoshoot, and interview by a driver.”

“You’ve never driven yourself to a casting?”

“Never did castings. My walk, face, dress size… high-end brands would sign me up without test shoots and castings.”

“Holy shit.”

“I've been a mannequin my whole life. My body was simply a tool to showcase clothing.” Her spirits dampen, the tone of her voice sinking. “Traveling around, living out of a suitcase for most of the year. It’s not as glamorous as you would think.” She looks through me as if her mind wanders off into the distance. “I’m far from perfect. I have flaws. As do many other models. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Eating disorders, body dysmorphia, depression to name a few. There is nothing heavier than the weight of expectation to look perfect.”

Her openness surprises me. She’s made references to her modeling career previously, but she’s never gone this deep.

“Perfection is overrated.” I try breaking the unhappy, reminiscing spell she’s under. “And you are more than your looks.” I almost feel bad telling her so many times I think she’s beautiful. Although she is, and she can never run away from that, her beauty runs deeper than her looks. “You’re intelligent, well-traveled, educated, kind, caring, and fascinating.” She blinks when I reach up and cup her face, and I know she’s back in the room with me.

She interjects, “Fascinating? Really?”

I turn my head to the side. “Look at all the places you’ve traveled.” I point to the dozens of framed photographs on the wall. “Rome, Egypt, Australia, India, to name a few, and I’ve only left North America for hockey and never saw more than the dressing room and my hotel when I did.” My focus back on her, I continue, “I want to hear about the food, culture, places you’ve been. I want to learn everything about you. My life is very boring compared to yours.”

“I disagree. I find what you do for a living fascinating.”

“It’s not fascinating. It’s exhilarating though.” Also, hard work and tiring. I’m exhausted today. Only having an hour’s worth of sleep because we devoured each other for most of the night following yet another grueling physical game didn’t help either.

“I think what you do is super-hot. I love watching you play.” Beaming down at me, her eyes sparkle.

“I like you being there.” I’m secretly praying she makes every game. Amelia barely came to any because she never saw the appeal or understood the passion I had for hockey. Amelia aside, Gretchen along with Myles and Ezra are the only people who ever showed up for me at games. With Gretchen gone andmy two friends off pursuing their careers, I have no one there supporting me and I can’t help feeling a little sorry for myself.

“I’ll be at every game. I promise.” I believe her and that settles me more than I knew was possible.

“And you’ll wear my jersey.”

“Yes, I will.”

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