Page 48 of Blindside Me
I finish the suicides first, as planned, though Ryan is close behind. My breath comes in controlled bursts. Never show how hard you’re working. That’s the rule.
“Again!” Coach shouts. We line up, legs already heavy.
By the time practice ends, my legs are concrete, and my lungs feel like they’ve been scrubbed with steel wool. Coach worked us harder than usual, partly because of my mistake and partly because we have a big game against Westlake this weekend. After the others head to the locker room, I stay on the ice, taking extra shots at the empty net. This is my routine. I always stay late and work harder. It’s how I survive.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Jade make her way down from the bleachers with her sketchbook tucked under one arm. She waits at the edge of the rink, watching me. I pretend not to notice, focusing instead on my shots. Top left corner. Top right. Bottom left. Each one hits its mark.
When I finally skate to the boards, she’s still there, those sharp blue eyes taking in every detail of my face.
“You look like hell,” she says, blunt as ever.
I smirk despite myself. “Nice to see you, too.”
“No, seriously.” She leans against the boards. Her vanilla, clean scent wafts between us, and I want to bury my nose in her hair. “Does Coach always work you guys like that?”
“Only when I give him a reason to,” I admit, removing my helmet and running a hand through my sweat-soaked hair.
“Because you were looking at me?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.
Her directness catches me off guard. Most people dance around things, but not Jade. Never Jade.
“Because I lost focus,” I correct her, though we both know it’s the same thing.
She nods, eyes scanning the now-empty arena to confirm we’re alone. “I didn’t realize you were getting teased about…” Her face flames even redder as she drops her gaze.
“They don’t know who it was from,” I say quickly. The last thing I need is for Jade to think they know it was her. It was a mistake, a hot, incredible mistake that I can’t stop thinking about, but a mistake, nonetheless. Hockey comes first. Always.
“They don’t?”
“The surprise in your voice hurts.” I place my hand over my heart. “I thought we were at least at the trust level.”
“Oh, you have to do a lot more to unlock that stage.”
“I do, huh?”
“Yep. That’s only for serious contenders.” She grins, and damn, I like seeing her smile.
“So, what? It’s a competition now?” I ask.
“Isn’t everything?” She quirks an eyebrow.
Despite my exhaustion, I laugh. “Touché.”
She tilts her head slightly and studies me. “It looks like you could use a break.”
My shoulders instantly tense. Break isn’t in my vocabulary. “Can’t afford a break.”
“I think you can,” she persists, those blue eyes challenging me. “Trust me?”
The question hangs between us. Trust isn’t something I give easily. My whole life is built around control, controlling my schedule, my body, my emotions. Jade represents the opposite of control. She’s spontaneous and unpredictable. Dangerous, even.
But as I look at her, really look at her, something shifts inside me. Maybe it’s exhaustion breaking down my defenses. Maybe it’s the way she doesn’t flinch at my intensity. Whatever it is, I can’t stop myself from saying, “Thought we weren’t at that level.”
“Mm, we’re not. But there’s only one way to get there.”
“Yeah?” I lean in, despite smelling like death. “How’s that?”
“By showing up tomorrow night at six. And trusting me.”
