Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“I hope so.”
I realize I’ve never meant anything more as I straighten my shoulders and rap my knuckles against the frosted glass door.
“Come in.”
I poke my head inside the small space. “You wanted to see me, Coach?”
“Yeah.” He glances up from the paperwork strewn across his desk. “Close the door and take a seat.”
35
Maverick
Twenty minutes later, I’m hustling my ass across campus, hoping to make it to the library by six o’clock. I considered calling or texting Willow a million times throughout the week, but ultimately, it’s better if we have this conversation in person.
The entire time Coach had been yapping, I’d snuck quick peeks at my phone, hoping he’d bottom line his long list of grievances.
No such luck.
He’d gone on for another fifteen damn minutes before finally wrapping up his spiel.
And now I’m late.
At ten minutes past six, I yank open the door and rush through the lobby to the staircase before taking the risers two at a time. The closer I get, the more anxiety crashes through me.
Even though it’s only been a handful of days since we last saw each other, it feels more like weeks. I’m starving for the sight of her. Once I reach the third floor, my gaze coasts over the area before spotting a blonde with her back to me. Her head is bent and her hair is in a messy bun at the top of her head.
I suck in a deep breath, hoping to steady everything that rampages inside me. Sweat springs to my palms as I beeline to the table she’s parked at.
“Hey.” The greeting bursts from my lips before I can stop it.
I spent most of practice thinking about how I wanted this conversation to go. It’s the reason I was such a shitshow on the ice.
And Coach let me know it.
His advice was that I needed to focus on what’s important—my future.
And that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Willow has become a bright spot in my life, and I refuse to lose that.
Or her.
The moment she glances up and meets my gaze, a large smile breaks out across her face. “Hi!”
I blink, thrown off guard at finding a stranger. The longer I stare, the more I wonder how I ever thought she was Willow. Upon closer inspection, other than the fact that their hair color is a similar shade and they’re roughly the same size, she looks nothing like my girl.
“Um, sorry,” I mumble, taking a hasty step in retreat. “I thought you were someone else.” I shift and glance around the third floor, hoping to spot her.
Just when I’m about to swing away, she chirps, “Maverick, right?”
My heart picks up tempo. “Umm, yeah.”
“I’m Stacie. Willow asked me to take over your tutoring sessions for the remainder of the semester.” With a tilt of her head, she eyes me up. “I thought she would have mentioned it.”
The tossed-out comment is like a kick to the balls. “No, she didn’t.”
“That’s all right.” Her smile widens as she points to the chair across from her. “Why don’t you take a seat and we can get started?”
“Sorry, I just remembered that I have a thing and need to reschedule.”
Her brows draw together as she frowns. “Are you sure? I probably won’t be able to squeeze you in again for a couple of days.”
“Yeah, I am.”
Before she can come up with another way to detain me, I take off.
Did Willow really think she could send someone else in her place in hopes of avoiding me?
Ha!
That’s not about to happen.
36
Willow
I curl up in a ball on the bed and screw my eyelids closed. Every time a shiver racks my body, I drag the comforter up around my neck to ward off the chills. A few minutes later, it’ll feel like I’m burning up and I’ll toss off the blanket. This scenario has been playing on repeat for hours.
When Holland hovers near the threshold of the room, my eyelids flutter open to meet her concerned stare.
“Are you sure there isn’t something I can get for you? A drink? Maybe some crackers? How about a bowl of soup?”
The thought of food makes me nauseous.
But I keep that to myself.
I don’t want Holland to realize just how miserable I feel.
Instead, I shake my head and close my eyes, only wanting to sleep off whatever virus I’ve picked up. “No,” I mumble. “I’m not hungry.”
“You need to at least drink and stay hydrated.”
I point to the bottle of water on my nightstand. “I’m trying.”
A heavy silence settles over us.
It’s almost a surprise when she mutters, “As much as I hate to even speak her name, maybe we should call Becks.”
I force my eyelids open again and shoot her a scowl. “Don’t you dare. It’s just a little bug. A day or so of rest and I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
“I don’t know…” She creeps closer before staring down at me. “You’re really pale.”