Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
He welcomes a round of back-pat hugs from Kody and Lavender, and I excuse myself as well. We get ready for bed, and I slide under the sheets and stretch out alongside him.
“You have fun tonight?” he asks.
“It was amazing. So cool to watch a live game. Kody’s a fantastic player.”
“He really is. He’s going to blow his dad’s career out of the water.”
“That’s a lot of pressure, isn’t it?”
BJ trails his fingers along my spine. “It is, but the only thing Kody’s ever been obsessed with—apart from Lavender—is hockey. He used to play in his crib, so he was sort of born for the sport.”
“Sort of like you were born to figure skate,” I murmur.
“It felt that way for a lot of years.”
“But not anymore?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I worked so hard to get where I was, but if I get back on the ice, I’ll be starting at square one, just like when I started skating with Adele. It took us years to get where we were, and that was without an injury. Walking up and down those stairs at the arena tonight was a challenge. My leg is achy all the time, and the nerve pain makes it hard to think sometimes. I just…don’t know if the things I wanted are possible now.” He brings my fingers to his lips and kisses the tips. “Can we put a pin in this? I had a great night, and thinking about this stuff… It just messes with my headspace.”
I kiss his neck. “You want a distraction from the noise in your head?”
“You sure you want to get into that now? It’s late, and I know orgasms aren’t a sedative for you like they are for me.” His fingers are already dipping under my sleep tank.
I run my hand down his stomach and slide my hand into the waistband of his boxer shorts. He’s halfway hard. “I can handle a night light on sleep if it means I can help get your head out of bad places.”
“I love you,” he groans as I wrap my hand around his length.
“I know. I love you too.” I press my lips to his and help him get lost in feeling good.
This conversation isn’t over, but for now, we can put it on pause.
35 IF YOU WANT ME
BJ
“You’re doing great with your physical therapy. Mobility is good. We’ll keep up with the weekly massage sessions to help minimize the internal scar tissue. You’re cleared to get back on the ice.”
“Already?”
The doctor nods. “It’s been a month, and you’ve put in the work. I’m not saying start doing pirouettes and jumps, but putting your skates on and getting your body used to different types of activity will only help expedite the healing process,” he explains. “It’s okay if you’re not ready, though. You’re still seeing the therapist I referred you to?”
“Yeah. I’m still seeing the therapist.” I’ve needed a perspective that wasn’t one of my parents’ or my friends’, someone impartial to talk through all my fears with. To help me make sense of this.
“And that’s going well?”
“Yeah, she’s great.”
He nods. “Well, when you’re ready to take that step, the step is ready for you.”
He also tells me I’m cleared for other physical activities, but to be careful of overexertion. That’s one green light I plan to take full advantage of.
Mom is in the waiting room. She comes every week to take me to the doctor’s appointments, and Dad usually attends physical therapy with me. I anticipate that they’ll be more attentive than usual for a while. Mom is already talking about the holiday break and how glad she is I’ll be home for a few weeks.
A small piece of me feels bad that I didn’t go home to recover, but losing the entire semester wouldn’t have been good for my mental well-being. I needed somewhere else to focus my energy, and Winter and my friends have really stepped up and helped make it work.
When I come out of the office, the doctor shares the good news with my mom.
“I can see about getting us some ice time this week. I’ll make room in my schedule on whatever day works for you.” Mom is giddy with excitement as we walk to the car.
“I’m not skating at that rink again. Not after what happened there.” I have a giant pit of dread in my stomach.
“Of course not. Why don’t you come home this weekend? That would be better, wouldn’t it? To skate at the Hockey Academy?”
I’m quiet a moment as I navigate getting into the passenger seat. “Winter has a big game this weekend.” They’re playing the first-place team, and they’re currently in third. If they win this game, they’ll be in second.
“What about getting time at the school rink? I’m sure we could work something out there.”