Page 31 of My Lucky Charm

As I skate down to the end of the ice where she’s sitting, she straightens.

I stop at the edge and pull off my helmet. “What are you still doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” she says simply.

“Go home,” I say.

“I’m on the clock,” she says.

“I’m giving you the rest of the day off.”

“I need the key to your apartment.” She stands.

I didn’t see that coming. “What the heck for?”

“Because I need to stock your fridge.”

I grit my teeth. This is her job? Getting into my stuff, sticking her nose in every bit of my business?

“No, you don’t.” Although, it is practically empty.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a sheet of paper. “List of duties—” she points at it— “complete grocery shopping for athlete.”

I shake my head. “This is stupid. I don’t need—”

“Yeah, I know.” She stands and walks right up to me. She’s several inches shorter than me, but her energy is ten times bigger. “You don’t need me.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “But you know what? I need this job, so if you’d stop thinking about yourself for three seconds, maybe you could do something nice for someone else.” She glares at me.

And then, her face falls. “Shoot, I really tried to keep a straight face on that one. Dang it. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be that rude.” She looks away, visibly flustered, then pushes a hand through her wavy blond hair.

I can’t help it. I smile.

I snap my mouth into a straight line before she looks back at me. I’m about to remind her that I did something very nice for her on New Year’s Eve, but choose instead to keep that to myself.

Making her aware of the fact that I actually do remember her? That I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her? Bad idea. Especially in our current circumstance.

This way, she’ll assume I’m just a jerk, and it will be enough for her to keep her distance.

I need her to keep her distance.

She sighs. “Look, I’m not here to annoy you, or to make your life harder, or whatever. I’m supposed to make things easier. That’s my job. So, maybe we could go over this list and decide what things on it you’ll actually let me do.”

I don’t want another person poking around my life. Period. But I notice she’s mentioned she needs this job a couple of times. I might be rude, but I’m not completely heartless.

There’s just one problem. How do I stay focused on hockey when she’s around? How do I let her in without actually letting her in? My father wasn’t wrong when he threw my mistakes back in my face. I was the one who made them.

I ignore her suggestion. “I still have an hour here. Do you want to—” It feels weird asking her to do things I’m perfectly capable of doing on my own.

She finishes my thought without me giving her any indication what I was going to say.

“Food. Yep. What do you need?”

Wow.

She goes on, “I could run down to Paradise and pick something up. Or I could grab a pizza? Have you had Chicago style pizza yet?”

“No,” I say. “I don’t eat pizza.”

“Oh. Right,” she says, and her face kind of falls. “Stupid. I should’ve thought of that. Training probably, right? It’s unhealthy?”

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