Page 33 of Lighting the Lamp
Alise
Ican faintly hear the second-period horn through my headphones as I hurry through the VIP entrance towards our seats, arms full, hair frizzing from the wind, and boots damp from sprinting across the slushy parking lot. My fingers are numb, my thighs are burning, and I’m still wearing the bakery apron I forgot to take off after the cake tasting. So, yeah, totally killing it.
Of course, we couldn’t be sitting in the VIP suite today. That would be way too easy. Of all days, today Ramona has decided she wants to sit closer to the action. All close and personal with the ice. She said something about wanting to be able to hear the announcer better, but I have a feeling it has more to do with her wanting to look at Cooper’s ass during warm-ups.
Ramona spots me first, jumping up from her seat by the glass and waving like she’s trying to flag down a taxi in midtown traffic. “Oh, she lives!”
I stumble toward her, the arena lights a little too bright and the roar of the crowd crashing through my already-fried nerves. My arms are trembling from the weight of the pastry bags, but I lift them like they’re Olympic medals. “I brought almond pastries! And also possibly a stress fracture.”
Ramona reaches for the bags, but I hold tight for a beat too long, like surrendering them means I’ll fall apart, which causes her to frown. “You look wrecked.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, even though my shoulders are cramping and there’s a new blister blooming on my heel. “Just a little winded from my sprint through the parking lot.”
“You should’ve let me come with you,” she says, brushing her fingers across my forehead like she’s trying to fix the mess with tenderness. “I planned to drop Beau off at the players’ gate and meet you for the appointment.”
I shake my head, trying to summon the energy for a smile. “And risk Cooper’s wrath if you weren’t here for puck drop? No fucking way.”
Ramona arches a brow. “Alise.”
“I know.” I sigh. “I overcommitted, but it’s my fault. I scheduled the appointments, forgetting that today was a game day. I figured with Beau not playing…”
“It slipped your mind.” Her expression softens along with her voice.
I nod, swallowing down the lump in my throat. The truth is, it didn’t slip. I just keep thinking I can do it all. That if I move fast enough and take care of everyone else, I won’t have to stop long enough to feel how tired I really am.
“We all know you only have eyes for one Hendrix brother.”
“Mona,” I groan, dragging out the syllables, but my cheeks flush anyway. Not just from the jab, but because she’s not wrong.
I sink into the seat beside her, the cushion doing little to stop the ache in my spine. Thankfully, the roar of the crowd is muffled by my headphones. The last thing I need is to add a migraine and panic attack to my list of aliments right now. My body slumps forward, elbows on my knees and head in my hands, as I allow the game to fade into the background. I’m exhausted. The kind of bone-deep tiredness that doesn’t comefrom running errands or skipping lunch, but from holding too many things together for too long. Now, in the middle of a crowded arena, with Ramona watching me like she sees right through me, I feel it creeping in. The embarrassment, shame, and echoing fear that maybe I’m not as capable as I pretend to be.
I rub my palms against my eyes, trying to shake it off, but the image that flashes behind my lids isn’t the arena or the to-do list I haven’t finished; it’s Beau.
A few hours ago, alone at the rink, the world had felt still for the first time all day. The complaints of the boys as they completed their punishment laps. His voice, low and gravelly, when he said my name. The way the tip of his nose grazed mine as he leaned forward, and that almost-kiss. If Darius hadn’t interrupted us, if I hadn’t stepped away from him like I was on fire, if either of us had been braver, what would’ve happened?
I blink, and the crowd roars, causing me to flinch slightly, as the Timberwolves rush the net. But instead of focusing on what is happening on the ice, all I can think about is how close I came to unraveling in Beau’s arms, in front of everyone.
“For someone so exhausted, you sure move fast,” Auntie Mel grumbles as she slides past me, planting a kiss on Ramona’s cheek. “Now give me one of those pastries. I’m starving.”
“You could’ve stayed home, you know,” I grumble, grabbing a pastry from the bag before passing it to Ramona. “Not that we don’t love you being here, but you weren’t planning on coming to the game.”
“I wasn’t, but a certain stubborn son of mine came and didn’t inform me. I haven’t seen him since his appointment this morning. I want to know what the doctor said.” Auntie Mel removes her coat with practiced grace. “You say he’s fine, Alise, but I need to see and hear it with my own eyes.”
“Wait, he had a doctor’s appointment this morning?” I groan, taking a large bite, the flaky crust practically melting in my mouth, making me almost forget that Beau omitted that information earlier.
“He didn’t tell you, did he?” Auntie Mel questions, settling into the seat on my other side with the poise of royalty. “I’m not surprised. All of us can see that you are burning the candle at both ends. You two and your need to protect each other from your problems.”
“Man, she has you two pegged.” Ramona cackles.
“Don’t encourage her.” I groan, unlacing my boots under the seat. “I’m holding it together withSol de Janeiro Cheirosa 62and willpower right now.”
“Is that why you smell like salted caramel?”
“Don’t knock it. It could be much worse. I got hit with the florist’s rosewater spray and have smelled like a haunted wedding ever since.”
“That’s why your coat smells like a funeral parlor!”
“Hey,” I say, mock-offended. “This is stress couture.”
