Page 121 of Lose You Twice

“It’s fuel for a future mental breakdown.”

She mutters something unkind about my life choices, and we walk into class.

By the time my shift starts, I’m running purely on caffeine, painkillers, and a refusal to collapse in public.

Donnelly notices within three seconds.

“You look like hell,” he says when I walk into the equipment room.

“Everyone is so kind today.”

“You sick?”

“No.”

“Dying?”

“Not currently.”

He grunts and points toward the bench by the shelves. “Sit if you need to.”

I ignore him and grab the clipboard for skate-check inventory. Standing still makes the cramps louder, so I move. Tape bin. Lace drawer. Towel shelf. Count. Mark. Stack. Repeat. There is comfort in small tasks, even when my body feels like it’s trying to turn itself inside out.

The team filters in for afternoon practice, less rowdy than after the win but still loud enough to make my headache pulse. Weston arrives first, sunglasses pushed into his hair and a protein bar in his mouth.

“Laundry Duchess,” he says around it.

“Forbidden pile,” I warn.

He swallows. “Equipment Monarch?”

“Closer, but no.”

Asher steps in behind him. “You look terrible.”

I point at him. “Why does everyone think that’s acceptable to say to a woman?”

“Because you do.”

“Comforting.”

Weston squints at me, and for once, the joke slides off his face. “You okay?”

“I swear to God, if one more person asks me that⁠—”

Kai walks in.

Of course.

Because the universe hates me with a passion.

His eyes find mine immediately, and the whole room seems to tilt one degree to the left.

Not because of the cramps this time, because of the kiss.

His mouth on mine. His hand in my hair. The sound he made when I pulled him closer.

My fingers tighten around the clipboard.