Page 15 of Left-Hand Larceny

My neck is tight, probably I slept wrong or something. I could go home now, but I want to prolong this moment. I grind my head in a big circle, slow and deep. It feels good; the stretch pulling all down my spine.

“Ragnar!” Sadie yelps, lunging over and grabbing my arm like I’m about to set myself on fire.

I freeze. Is she okay?

Her eyes are wide, horrified. “No. Absolutely not. Do not do that.”

I blink at her, confused. Do what? Stretch? It probably isn’t the right way. In fact, I’m sure it’s not. I roll my neck again, slower this time. Trying to compromise.

She slaps my arm.

“Stop! I’m serious! You can’t just grind your neck around like that. That’s how you herniate a disc or pinch a nerve or—God, just don’t.”

I frown, still not seeing the problem. “I-it feels g-g-good.”

“Yeah, well, so does staying up all night with a good book, but that doesn’t mean it’s good for you!”

I know for a fact that Sadie has this problem on a regular basis. Mostly because I’ve heard Greg tease her about it and Tristan demand title recommendations. I smirk. “You d-do tha-at.”

Her mouth drops open, then snaps shut as she rolls her eyes. “Okay, but that won’t paralyze me. I’ll just be cranky and take it out on you.”

I laugh, holding up both hands in surrender. “A-all right. N-no more n-n-neck grind-grinding. What should I…I…Id-do instead?”

She huffs and scoots closer, putting her hands on my shoulders. Her thumbs press in lightly, warm and firm. It’sdefinitely not her intention, but a shiver runs down my skin. I clench my jaw, not willing to let out anything to stop what she’s about to do.

“You stretch your traps and scalenes like a normal person. Here—tilt your head, gently.”

I let her guide me, moving my head to the side. Her hands are still on me, steady and sure, and I’m hyper-aware of every point of contact.

“L-like this?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is quieter now, more focused. “Better. Hold it for thirty seconds.”

She’d looks up at me from under thick, dark lashes. In movies, the hero gently pulls the heroine’s glasses off just to see her better. I don’t need to. Sadie’s frames barely register in my subconscious, despite being covered with sparkles.Her glasses are a part of her.

“Sh-should I c-c-count?” I’m being a smartass.

Her eyes flash as she shoots me a warning look, but her hands don’t move.

“Stretch, Ólaffson. Or I’m adding burpees.”

I groan—pro athlete or not, does anyone like burpees?—but I’m grinning, and I don’t move, not for anything. Thirty seconds have never moved this fast. Or been this good.

Sadie helps me stretch out each side of my neck. She tilts my head, holds it in place, her eyes darting away every time they connect with mine. It’s over long before I’m ready. Sadie grabs her headphones and checks her phone before tucking both into the side pocket of her bright…damn, what color is that again. Not red, not purple.Bleikur. The right word, but the wrong language.I just had the color in my brain not even ten minutes ago. Now it’s gone.

“Pink,” I say aloud. She quirks a brow at me and I blush again. The one time I don’t stumble over my words and it’s that. Great. “I-I could-could-couldn’t think of the…the w-word.”

“I hate when that happens.” Her fingers twist thick strands of her hair into a braid. I watch, mesmerized. She didn’t just start at the bottom, but wove in strands from the top of her head, too. It looks more complicated than strapping on my pads, and I remember Spags cursing up a blue streak when he lost a bet with Vic and had to take a turn in goal during a practice last season. And not just because all the guys took cup shots.

He was fine after.

I checked.

“Sometimes I make up a word that kinda fits.” She secures the end with her scrunchie. “The other day I needed scissors and couldn’t think of the word. I literally acted it out with my hands. Greg was laughing so hard he couldn’t get them for me.” She tips her head to the side. “Sorry, that was insensitive of me. I’m sure it’s harder when there are two languages in your head.”

It feels like there’s something stuck in my throat. I can’t swallow right. My heart is pounding and there’s water rushing in my ears. I point at her shoelace.

“C-can I h-h-hel—help tie y-your shoe?”

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