Page 39 of The Assist
She doesn’t say it outright, but I can feel it between the lines. She doesn’t want to burden me.
But Ineedto see her.
I shove the phone in my pocket and head back to the treatment room.
Not for rehab.
Because all this pressure, all this need to be perfect, to be loved, to be enough, it feels like it only quiets when I’m near her. When she’s looking at me like I’m not just the guy with the slapshot or the swagger, but something more.
I peek through the window before I knock. She’s alone again, sorting supplies like she always does when her brain’s running at full tilt. There’s this crease between her brows, and I want to smooth it away with my thumb. I want to lean inand kiss her like Ialmostdid earlier. Like I’ve wanted to for weeks.
I knock, and she looks up. There’s a pause, then that guarded, professional expression slips into place like a mask. But it’s too late. I’ve already seen her face soften. Already felt the pull.
“Thought you were under orders to do your cooldown session,” she says, voice cool but not cold.
I lean against the doorway, trying not to look like I’m seconds away from unravelling. “Jonno kicked me out,” I say. “Apparently pushing myself into early retirement isn’t ideal.”
She gives me a look that says,No shit.
“I just…” I run a hand through my hair, words failing me for a beat. “I wanted to see you.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “You don’t have to check up on me.”
“I know,” I say. “But I wanted to.”
Silence stretches between us like a live wire.
Finally, she speaks, softer now. “You ever feel like you’re trying so hard to hold everything together, you don’t even notice when you start falling apart?”
I laugh. It’s not a happy sound. “Every damn day.”
She looks at me then, and I see something in her expression shift. Like maybe she sees it too. The cracks. The boy beneath the man. The one who just wanted his dad to say,you did good, kid.
I take a step toward her. Then another.
And she doesn’t back away.
“We almost kissed,” I say, voice low. “Earlier.”
Her breath catches. “Yeah,” she whispers. “We did.”
I reach out, slowly, giving her time to stop me. My fingers brush her wrist, light and tentative.
“I wanted to. Still do.”
She doesn’t move. But her eyes are on my mouth. Andthat’s all the permission I need. I lean in, heart pounding, just a breath away, and she whispers, “Dylan, wait.”
I stop, forehead resting against hers.
“We can’t,” she says, eyes closing. “Not yet.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Okay.” But I don’t step back. Not yet. Becausewhateverthis is between us, it’s real. It’s the first thing that’s felt solid in weeks. And even if we’re not ready to cross that line, I’m not letting go of the rope.
Not now.
Not when everything else feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
