Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Marissa
Walked into a rink today and saw a grown man in a sparkly blue unitard crying over a broken skate blade.
Me
I’d cry too if someone made me wear that.
Marissa
It was bedazzled.
Me
Seriously?
Marissa
I couldn’t look directly at it. It had its own solar flare.
It all made me miss her so fucking much it was starting to strangle me.
The deli was coming together—counters, booths, and stainless-steel fixtures were all installed. But it still felt like nothing without her. She was the only one I wanted to share it with. Show her the signage. Let her taste test the sandwiches and help me pick which jersey got mounted on the back wall.
I didn’t tell her that, though. It wasn’t the time.
After three weeks of scattered conversations, things changed. Her messages got shorter. Less frequent. Slower to arrive. I told myself she was just tired. Overworked. But the edge crept in. I felt it like a loose thread under my skin.
Me
You okay?
She didn’t answer for hours.
Marissa
Just tired. Sorry. I’ll text tomorrow.
But tomorrow came and went.
I didn’t push. Didn’t demand. I waited, letting her have space even though I hated every second of it. I’d stare at the screen waiting for those dots to blink to life. Sometimes they never did.
And fuck, it hurt.
She was slipping away, and I could feel it in my chest like pressure before a storm. I was already in too deep.
She didn’t know it yet, but she was mine.
And when she got back, I’d prove it to her.
No matter how fucking long it took.
6
MARISSA
The alarm on my phone went off way too early. You’d think I’d gotten used to my chaotic routine over the past three weeks, but it kept getting harder to get through each day as more time passed.
I groaned into my pillow before rolling onto my back. Every part of me felt heavy, as though my bones had decided to mutiny after all the different flights, time zones, hotel rooms, and rinks.
I forced myself upright and immediately regretted it. A wave of nausea rolled through me, not too surprising since I’d been eating like crap lately. Too much concession stand food and not enough lean proteins and vegetables.
I couldn’t wait to get back home. The kitchen in my apartment was small, but it worked for meal prepping so I could eat healthy all week.
Finally dragging myself from bed, I padded into the bathroom, tugging my stolen T-shirt straight. The soft material didn’t smell like Raiden anymore, but I still liked to wear it to bed because it made me feel closer to him. Not that I was ready to admit that to anyone but myself.
I splashed cold water on my face and rubbed at the tension pulsing behind my eyes. The fluorescent light wasn’t doing me any favors. I looked like someone who’d been awake for a week straight and held together by caffeine fumes. Sadly, that wasn’t far from the truth.
I checked the itinerary on my phone while brushing my teeth. Today was interviews with two skaters, a late-night live hit for the prelims, and then a feature clip for tomorrow’s morning show. Busy, but manageable if I ignored the fact that I wanted to curl up under the covers and sleep until the World Championships were over.
Before I could close out of my reminders, the messages tab caught my eye. I opened it and pulled up my thread with Raiden. We hadn’t texted as much as I’d like because our time zones were off, but our back and forth still made me smile. He hadn’t forgotten me even though I was on a different continent.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to linger over his messages, so I just fired off a quick text before getting ready to head out the door.
Me
Another early morning start to a busy day. Hope you get more rest than me.
It wasn’t until I popped into a convenience store a half hour later to grab a bottle of water and a snack that I realized my nausea—and the breast tenderness I’d assumed was from PMS—might have another cause. The random aisle I’d walked down to reach the coolers in the back had a big section of pregnancy tests.
My pulse thudded loudly in my ears as I reached for a small box on the middle shelf. My fingers hovered for half a second—like touching the box might burn—before I finally grabbed it. The packaging felt heavier than it should’ve, as though I felt the weight of the answer it might give me while I grabbed the items I’d originally come into the store for.
After I paid, I stuffed the pink box in my tote. The bell over the door chimed as I stepped outside again, and the early morning chill hit me hard enough to make me shiver.
I wanted to go back to my hotel, but I didn’t have time.