Page 79 of Irresistibly Risky

She gives me an annoyed look because she knows I’m stalling. “Then don’t. Go!”

“Argh! Okay.” I start to stretch the band outward across my chest, moving my shoulders back and my elbows out to my sides. And FUCK! It hurts worse than it did five minutes ago.

“Yes, Ash. More. Give me more.”

A groan tears from my throat. “Fuck, Sara. Jesus.”

I’m dying. I am. The band retracts, and then I do it two more times. Each time pushing myself a little farther than the last.

“Yes.” Sara’s voice climbs with excitement as she bounces on my lower thighs. “There. That’s it. More, more, more. Don’t stop,” she encourages.

“Fuck! Yes!” After the fifth one, the band snaps from my hand, and I fall back once again.

“You did it!”

“I did it. Someone lead me to the ice.”

A strange noise jolts me upright and has Sara’s head turning over her shoulder as she stands. “What was that? It sounded like—”

“A cry.”

Her brows furrow. “Yeah. I was thinking that, but it didn’t make sense—”

Her words are sharply cut off a second time by the slamming of my front door. Automatically, I’m on my feet. “Fuck. What time is it?”

I look down at my Apple Watch. It’s already after five. How did that happen? That must have been Wynter, but why did it sound like she was crying, and why did she come home only to immediately leave?

Something must have happened.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sara.” I fly out of my gym and into the hallway, but I’m too late to catch the elevator, even as I slam my fist into the button. I race back inside, searching for a T-shirt and sneakers. I dial up Wynter’s phone, but it rings and rings only to go to voicemail. Same thing when I call the second and third time.

Then I start with the texts that also go unanswered.

By the time I make it to my car and pull out onto the street, I’m worried out of my mind about Mason and call her mother.

“He’s fine. I have him for the night,” her mother tells me.

“For the night?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice catching a bit on the end in surprise by my tone. This is all news to me. “Didn’t she tell you?”

“No,” I start to say, only to pause when I reach the traffic light and scroll through my texts from her. “Yes. She did, only I didn’t see her text until now. She said she wanted to talk, but then she ran out, and I don’t know why.”

“If she’s anywhere, she’s on the ice. You’ll be able to find her there. And Asher, what she wanted to talk to you about?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s about your coach.”

“Her father.”

“Her father,” she echoes. “He did a real number on her. Be gentle.”

My fists clench the steering wheel so hard the leather creaks. “I will.”

She disconnects the call, and a moment later, a text pings in with the address of the rink. But her mother’s words reverberate through my skull. He did a real number on her. And I had Sara on my lap. Not that it was the least bit sexual, but if Wynter walked in and saw Sara like that… it would be easy to misinterpret.

Is that what happened? Is that what caused her to run?

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