Page 48 of The Romance Line

“Something like that,” I say.

“Sure,” he says, then nods to the exit, a sign we’re done. But instead, he says, “Flynn’s a nice guy.”

I laugh lightly. “Should I have lunch with him then?”

His smile vacates the premises. His eyes darken. “No.”

Well, that’s even more clear now. He’ll stop dates with guys he dislikes and guys he approves of. Max nods to the ice. “You want to skate?”

I shake my head. “Oh, no. I babysit hockey players. I don’t skate.”

“C’mon,” he goads.

I shake it again. “Nope.”

“One new thing to try. Say yes, Everly,” he says, and just like that I’m back in time again. Marie’s favorite words. The thing she said when she asked me to take a pole class with her on a Post-it note. She was always leaving Post-it notes around the apartment we shared.

Want to go to the movies tonight? Say yes.

Want to grab a glass of wine after work? Say yes.

Want to take a pole dance class? Say yes.

I said yes.

And then a car slammed into us when I was turning left, hitting the passenger side head-on with a horrifying crunch, sending my head snapping back, and the car fishtailing into a truck. The sounds and the sirens and the machines and the hospital come rushing back to me, like it’s happening all over again. The noises, the surgeries, the burns, and the news.

The awful, terrifying news.

I look away from Max, focusing on my breathing. Cataloging the surroundings.

The net is made of twine and red metal.

The ice is cold and scraped up from practice.

The metal benches have grooves in them.

The scoreboard. It’s a deep red, withhomeandvisitorspainted in bold white writing.

And there’s one more thing I can see. Right in front of me—there’s Max, with real concern etched in his eyes. But I’m okay. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m not trapped in that car, or feeling my heart rip out of my chest as I say goodbye to the person who was like a sister to me. I kept all her Post-it notes in a little wooden box in my bedroom.

I want to say yes to Max’s offer to skate. I said yes to the sushi. I said yes to the naked bike ride. But there are practical matters. “Yes, but I don’t have my skates,” I say, gesturing to my heels.

His lips quirk up, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. “You have skates?” The question’s asked with surprise. Maybe wonder.

“Max, I work for a hockey team. Of course I have skates.”

“Then…raincheck?”

My chest warms. “Raincheck.”

16

A LITTLE LADY BONER

Everly

He drives me back into the city, tossing me a look as we cross over the Bay Bridge and the sparkly blue water below. “I do appreciate what you’re doing for me,” he says, earnestly. “I know I don’t show that much though.”