Page 30 of Lose You Twice

Not in obvious ways. I’m not stupid.

I give him polished truth. Enough honesty to sound healthy, enough omission to keep him from booking a flight to come drag me into a sports psych appointment himself.

“I’m hitting the showers,” I say. “Film at four. Don’t be late.”

Weston salutes. “Yes, Dad.”

Grayson waits until I pass before murmuring, “You know you’re allowed to want the next thing and still try to enjoy this one.”

The hot water helps for approximately four minutes.

Then I’m dressed, packed, and standing outside the athletic facility with my phone buzzing in my hand at exactly 12:58.

Dane is two minutes early. Of course he is.

I answer on the second ring because answering on the first feels desperate.

“Mercer,” he says.

“Whitaker.”

“Still alive?”

“Unfortunately for some of my teammates.”

“That bad?”

“First full skate after break.”

He makes a sympathetic noise that doesn’t contain much sympathy. “Good. They should suffer a little.”

“I’ll pass that along.”

“Don’t. They’ll think I’m joking.” A pause. “Talk to me.”

I adjust the strap of my backpack and head toward the business building. “Practice was good. Conditioning needs work. Timing is a little off after break, but not bad. We’ll clean it up by the weekend.”

“I wasn’t asking about the team. I was asking about you.”

I exhale through my nose. “I feel good.”

“How’s the hip?”

My right hip has been giving me some grief for the last year, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. “It’s tight after heavy reps. Nothing sharp, just a bit achy. I’m managing it, making sure I don’t overdo it, and I’ve made sure to make time for extra rehab sessions. It’s fine.”

“There’s that word again. You seem to really like using it just about as much as my wife does.”

I chuckle, though the sound is hollow.

“I’m serious,” he says. “Seattle wants you healthy more than we want you heroic.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

I don’t answer right away.

A group of students passes by me laughing, one of them walking backward while telling a story with both hands. For a second, shorter blonde hair catches at the edge of my vision, and my body reacts before my brain does.