Page 62 of With the Assist

“Morning,” I say, leaning against the bench.

She nods quickly, glancing past me. Her posture is rigid, shoulders slightly raised, and I can tell that today is all business. That’s fine, maybe even for the best.

We start with stretches. I try to keep my distance, but it only lasts a minute before my mind drifts into dangerous territory. It’simpossible for it not to when she’s moving so gracefully through our warm-up.

And that night… God, that night.

Seeing her like that and seeing her like this is confusing. The Wesley who let me hold her on the dance floor and the Wesley who won’t quite meet my eyes during this workout are polar opposites. My mind doesn’t know how to process that she’s the same person. Even still, I haven’t seen a version of her that I don’t like.

I know she’s cautious for a reason. She’s never laid it all out, but there’s an obvious pressure to be perfect for her family. Considering she just spent multiple days with them, it shouldn’t surprise me that she’s trying to keep it strictly professional today.

It’s her way of resetting the boundaries.

I decide to make it my mission not to let her.

“Careful,” I say finally, sick of the silence between us. “You’ve taken some days off. You might actually break a sweat before I do.”

She snorts, a sound I’ve missed more than I realized. “Doubtful. You hockey boys don’t stand a chance against my cardio. You’ll be panting before me.”

The corner of my mouth lifts because she doesn’t realize I already am. “We’ll see about that.”

We move to sprints after the warm-ups. I stay a stride behind her, letting her set the pace. She runs like she’s wary of falling too far into my rhythm or letting me get too close. I mirror her, nudging her subtly when our paths cross on the track, letting my hands brush hers ‘accidentally’. The touch is electric. She shivers. I can feel it.

“Trying to get me to trip?” She asks lightly, glancing back.

“Maybe,” I say with mock innocence. “But I’d catch you before you fell.”

She laughs, and it’s real this time, the tension in her shoulders releasing until it’s all but gone.

After the sprints, I suggest a long run into the woods behind the stadium. She hesitates for a heartbeat before giving a small, reluctant nod and falling in step beside me.

The crunch of pebbles beneath our sneakers is the only sound at first. She keeps her pace slightly behind me, letting me lead. My peripheral vision is full of her, every curve of her shoulders and swish of her braid. I fight the urge to close the distance and pull her closer. I’d do anything to remind her how much I want her. She has to know by now, though.

“You’re awfully quiet,” I say finally.

“I’m pacing myself,” she replies between careful breaths.

“Or avoiding talking to me.” My tone is light, but she doesn’t shoot back with a witty remark, so I know I’m close to the truth.

Eventually, she admits, “Maybe a little of both.”

That’s all I need. That’s all the invitation I need to push a little further.

“Why?” I pick up the pace slightly as we round a turn. “Because I’m full of questions. Starting with, how do you always make running in the freezing cold look like a stroll in the park?”

She swats my shoulder, but there is a twitch of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Practice.” She ups the pace further.

“You know where you don’t need practice?” I arch an eyebrow, glancing back at her. “Kissing.”

Her stride falters for a fraction of a second. Her face warms, and I know exactly what I’ve done. I’m not ready to back off yet.

“I mean, seriously, who knew that the ice queen herself could melt an entire bar with her fake kissing abilities. It’s impressive, really.”

“You’re impossible,” she mutters, half annoyed and half amused.

“I prefer insufferable.”

The woods open up to a larger path, the stadium coming back into view.