Page 79 of Get Me to the Starting Line
He sighs in response.
“I’m fine,” I grunt.
“Don’t push yourself too hard or I’ll tell Leah.”
“Bastard,” I grumble, sitting on the top step, catching my breath and stretching out my sore hip.
“I’m serious, Julien, we need you back in net,” he chides.
He ignores my scoff. The team has been doing relatively fine. McKay is a good goalie, and he subs for me even if I’m in tip-top shape. Of course, I’m better, but he’s holding his own.
I watch every single game with bated breath. It would be more stressful if it wasn’t for Leah. It’s the only time she sits with me on the couch, likely picking up on my need for her presence. She evenholds my hand sometimes, especially when we’re losing. I feel like a dick when I hope my team loses just so I can be close to a woman.
But when the game ends, she removes herself. What’s going on? I should ask again. I need to for my own sanity.
I let Mateo prattle on about the protocol for my healing, something I’ve heard a thousand times. Passing physiotherapy school would be easy with the amount of knowledge I’ve absorbed over the past few months. Much like it always does, my mind drifts to Leah.
This morning she seemed extra anxious before she went into work.
It wasn’t a running morning, but I knew she planned to hit the weights since she had her gym bag with her when she left. Paige has been forcing her to do some strength training once a week. Leah glared at me when I accidentally agreed out loud with Paige’s orders.
Mateo finally finishes his lecture and hangs up. That had to be a record. When I check my watch, I panic. Shit, it’s almost five o’clock—she’ll be home any minute. I’m about to move to head back to the apartment when her voice carries up the stairwell.
“No, of course not,” she says. There’s a pause. She must be on the phone.
I know I should leave, I know it, but I can’t make myself move.
She sighs. “Yeah, Paige, I know. What am I supposed to do?”
Pause.
“It’s not like I can ask him,” she says, exhaustion coating her words.
Is she talking about me? There’s a deafening pause, and when Leah speaks again, she’s so much closer. Do I want her to be talkingabout me? The thought that she could be talking about another man makes me bristle.
“I’m not going to put myself in a position where I’m forcing someone to choose me.” There’s an edge to her voice I’ve rarely heard before.
“That’s up to Julien,” she says.
Sheistalking about me. Relief sweeps through me, followed swiftly by trepidation at potentially being caught eavesdropping. I can’t gather what the conversation is about at all, but she’s on the stairs underneath me now. There is no possible way I’ll be able to move fast enough to not get caught.
Sure enough, she rounds the corner and almost drops her phone, her eyes going wide. Hopefully it doesn’t look like I’m bracing myself for her wrath.
“I have to go,” she breathes.
Her eyes narrow, and I watch with trepidation the moment she recovers from the surprise and takes me in, noting my gym shorts, sweaty skin, and lack of brace. A frown mars her beautiful face.
“What are you doing?”
“S-Sitting on the stairs.”
She glares. “Why are you sweaty?”
I shrug. I’m not going to lie, but it’ll be a cold day in hell when I tell her I’ve been doing this every day.
Assessing the stairwell and then me, she asks carefully, “How many flights did you do?”
I swallow, not sure how to handle this. Apparently I don’t need to.
