Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“Just like that,” I rasp. “You’re riding it just fucking right, Mia. Fuck.”
She makes a choked sound and her pace reaches a frenzy. I pull her tight to me, pumping in rhythm with her.
When she’s rolling off me, she’s wearing a satisfied, sleepy smile. I feel like I just ran a marathon and still want more. It’s perfect oblivion.
“Well?” she asks after a little while. “Did that work?”
“Did what work?” I ask.
She laughs. “I was trying to help you get a little release, remember?”
And then I do remember. I remember blurting something from deep inside that I never intended to share. The anger and embarrassment comes rushing back. “Thank you,” I say, because even if I still can’t escape my feelings, I can at least appreciate Mia trying to help.
She rolls to her side and puts her head on my shoulder, fingertips circling on my chest. “So, do you feel better, now?” she asks.
I smirk. “Yeah. But I’m going to have to ask the doctor if he can prescribe me a pretty big script of that medicine. I don’t think one treatment is going to do the trick.”
She cuddles a little closer to me. “I can have a word with him, if you want.”
I smirk up at the ceiling, enjoying the quiet in my head as I’m too exhausted to think about anything but the pleasant sensation of her skin against mine.
After a few minutes of silence, her breathing steadies and I think she’s actually sleeping.
I look down at her bright red hair wild and spilling all over me, like water running across my body in every direction. She’s so damn beautiful.
I use my leg to carefully lift the blanket higher, then tug it up over our bodies because I don’t want her to get cold. And then I slide my arm around her shoulders and hold her. I don’t feel tired at all, but I’m not upset about that.
I lay awake with my thoughts racing for most of the night and my heart feeling strangely full. Dangerously full.
It’s a feeling I don’t trust, because I know this thing between us is temporary. We’re both people with dreams. Aspirations. We have lives ahead of us that we’re not willing to sacrifice for someone else.
And that’s how it should be.
That’s how it should be.
The thought echoes in my mind for what feels like hours. Am I only trying to convince myself I’m doing this the right way, or do I really believe it?
Fuck if I know.
26
MIA
Igive the laces on my skates one last tug, then stand and brush the snow from my butt. I’m by the harbor, which will still be frozen over for at least another couple weeks. Caroline had the idea to stage a community hockey tournament. For as long as I’ve known Caroline, she has had a compulsion to keep the town of Frosty Harbor close and connected. She does it through the bed and breakfast, but also by organizing town events and making sure they become traditions. Most years, she comes up with several new events to keep things fresh.
I knew her when her mom was still alive, so I know it’s her way of keeping her mom’s spirit present. Caroline’s mom was exactly the same, and she would love to know Caroline has kept up the work she started before she passed.
This hockey tournament is one of those brand new traditions. Because of the unique number of NHL players currently living in Frosty Harbor, she had to make a rule that every team can only have one NHL player.
Zander saved me the trouble of having to figure out if I should try to be on Nolan’s team or not when he pushed for us to make a team out of everyone at Taste under the age of eighty. Edgar called it ageism and told Zander he was being a “fuckin’ piss melon,” but I don’t think he was actually too upset about now having to play.
There’s a buzz of excitement in the chilly air as most of the town has turned out to watch. The tournament is going to take most of the day, so the guys have brought out grills, tents, space heaters, and the concession stand by the harbor is up and running. People are setting up fold-out chairs with blankets all along the bank of the harbor to watch. The ice has several areas for the matches to take place marked out with cones and goals that look like they’ve seen better days on either side.
It’s sunny, snow is on the ground, and the weather is perfect for being outside as the smells of food cooking over fire starts to fill the air.
Paisley comes up to me as I’m making my way toward the ice. “Um,” she says. “A little help?”
I look down at her skates, which are on the wrong feet. She’s wobbling dangerously, too, like her ankles are made out of dough.