Page 87 of Any Second Now
“You all right over there?” Her RV neighbor calls from in front of her RV.
“Hey Elizabeth.” Raleigh—cheeks pinker by the second—takes a few steps toward her.
I jump to my feet and wince at the twinge in my groin, taking a second to confirm that it is all in my head. I feel one hundred percent on the ice, but once in a while I’ll get a phantom pain that seems to be my body freaking out that I’ll hurt myself again.
I need to be careful I don’t mess myself up before hockey season, especially not doing something stupid like flipping off a hammock.
I pull out my phone to check the time—almost noon—so I need to run home and get my stuff together to meet the skating coach, Lachlan, and Barrett.
Raleigh disappears into the Pink Palace and re-emerges with a pair of eggs in her hand.
“Oh, lovely.” The neighbor accepts the eggs while I respond to a text message chain with Lucy.
Lucy
I can’t believe Raleigh is in Fort Collins and I’m not there
Me
I’m taking care of her
Lucy
You better be. Not being sleazy, are you?
Me
I’m offended you’re even asking
And I am. I get why my sister is protective of Raleigh, and I’ve actually been surprised at how positive she reacted when Raleigh told her we’re doing more than hanging out as friends.
Personally, I would’ve kept that detail from Lucy, for the same reason I’m glad most people are out of town while I figure things out with Raleigh. I can’t imagine trying to be with her in front of so many witnesses, like how Lucy and Kellen got together last season.
Then again, two hundred thousand views on our cross-stitch video might contradict that idea.
I’m watching Lucy respond when a colorful delivery van pulls up in front of the Pink Palace. A guy jumps out of the driver’s side and slides open the back of his van, emerging with a large bouquet of red roses.
Raleigh turns at the sound and her eyes widen at the flowers. She turns to me with a sweet smile on her face.
Only one problem.
They’re not from me.
“One of you Raleigh Ford?” the man asks, looking between Raleigh and her neighbor.
“It’s Hayes, not Ford.” Raleigh’s brow furrows as the man hands her a tablet to sign before handing over the bouquet.
“Enjoy!” He jumps back in his van and pulls away, his tires spinning gravel as he departs.
Raleigh glances at me, eyebrows raised. I stand here like an asshole, phone in hand, and shrug.
Who the fuck sent Raleigh flowers?
Raleigh plucks the card from the bouquet and opens the little envelope.
Her eyes widen and she mouthsfuck.
Oh, but I do know.
