After a moment, he pushes himself into an upright position and turns to sit parallel to me. By the hard set of his features and tension in his body, he’s either winning the fight against his own lust right now—or losing. I hate that I don’t know which I want.
“Okay, well, you let me know when it’s relevant,” he says in a cool, civil tone. Grabbing his shirt, he pulls it over his head, wincing while he adjusts it around his body. “I can probably do the rest myself. Thanks for your help.”
I nod and force a smile as I push myself up and move toward the door.
“Take care of yourself, Julian. See you at rehearsal tomorrow.”
His tight smile stings now that it’s missing the corresponding light in his eyes. It’s for the best. And that’s what I am, right? The best at doing what’s best. The Queen of Responsibility.
With enough effort, I should be able to convince myself the queasy feeling in my stomach is relief, not regret.
“Oh my gosh! There he is!”
Viv squeals when Oliver shuffles down the corridor in full goalie gear toward the rink. She jumps to her feet at our seats in the stands, bouncing on her toes as her boyfriend approaches the ice for the first time in months.
The rest of the team milling around center ice comes to attention, and Oliver pauses for a second before lifting his skate and placing it on the ice. The other players erupt in whistles and bang their sticks on the arena floor as he takes a full step into the rink and begins a slow glide toward the net.
Viv claps and jumps, and I can’t help but smile when Oliver glances up into the stands to find her. Tears flood her eyes as she waves and blows a kiss to him. His grin widens, and I swallow a surge of emotion that doesn’t even belong to me. This is their moment, a hard-fought battle that’s been months in the making. I couldn’t be happier for them, and yet…
“You let me know when it’s relevant.”
Julian isn’t even here and he’s ruining this incredible scene. This is about Viv and Oliver. Why would I even think about Julian right now?
“He looks so good. Look at him, Had!” Viv cries, grabbing my arm. “He’s so happy, oh my gosh.” She swipes at her eyes, and I feel the rare burn of tears in my own. Oliver is an amazing man, her match in every way. She deserves this moment after the struggle they’ve both endured to get here, and I force a smile to make sure she gets to hang on to it as long as she can.
“He looks great,” I say, determined not to let Julian ruin this for Viv.
My stomach twists at the thought that I’ll be seeing him again in an hour or so. I hate how he confuses my insides. It’s bad enough I have to endure it when we’re near each other, but now he’s haunting me after hours as well? We pushed rehearsal later today so Viv could be here for Oliver’s first skate this morning, and I try to settle into the present and enjoy Viv’s excitement.
“He’s worked so hard to get here,” she says, her fingers steepled at her lips as she gazes at Oliver. Gazes, yes. The girl is in love. Deeply, madly in love, and now that weird feeling in my stomach twists with something else. Jealousy, maybe? No. Can’t be. I’ve worked for her for over five years and have never once felt jealous. Her fame, her money, her endless adoration—none of it appealed to me or triggered even an iota of envy.
Not.
Once.
And yet, one dreamy look at the love of her life and… I blame Julian for this too. I have no idea why, but everything is his fault lately. Great, there he is again. Grr.
“You okay?” Viv asks, taking her seat.
“Huh? Yeah, fine, why?” I didn’t intend for my voice to come out like a grunt. She gives me a look that says that’s why.
“Because everyone else in this arena is skipping around on rainbows right now, and you look stabby.”
“Stabby?” I glance down at my hands that have clenched into fists. Yep, pretty stabby-looking. “Sorry. It’s nothing.” I force my fingers unclenched, but they only wrap around my knees instead.
“You having problems with your parents again?” she asks, her eyes softening with concern. Crap, so much for not ruining this moment for her. I force the biggest, brightest smile I can muster.
“No, I’m fine. Seriously! Enjoy watching Ollie. This is huge. Not another glance in my direction.”
She still doesn’t look convinced as she studies me for another second before turning back to the action on the ice. Oliver is skating around the perimeter of the rink with an impressive mix of power and grace. An amateur like me would never guess he’d had his knee shattered five months ago and hasn’t been in skates since.
One look at Viv, and that deep longing plunges into me again. I want to look at someone like she watches him. To have a person melt the way I’ve seen him do in her presence.
A jolt of alarm fires through me at the odd thought. Where is this even coming from? I’m twenty-three years old and have never been dissatisfied with my life. In fact, I’m the one always arguing with my disapproving family that my life is exactly the way I want it. I don’t need more. I don’t want more.
Until this moment.
“Did you hear the new song Julian sent over?”
I flinch at Viv’s abrupt question. Is she reading my mind? “No,” I answer in a garbled tone. I clear my throat. “Is it good?”
She lifts a brow as she glances over. “You sure you’re okay?”
I breathe out through my nose. “Fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night. The song is good?”
“Of course it’s good. All his songs are good. It’s so deliciously heavy and dark like ‘Unforgiven.’ There’s this one line on the bridge I love, but I want to see if he’d be open to tweaking the melody. He goes up, but I like the idea of going down, maybe even into a full run. ‘It’s not your shadow to break. No one asked you to suffer this hell I’ve made.’” She sings the lyrics, emphasizing the downward run on “I’ve made.”
“Or maybe even, ‘I’ve made,’” she sings again with a slightly different riff.
“Yeah, I like that. You should suggest it to him,” I say, careful to keep my voice steady. I do a good job at pretending I’m not picturing Julian shirtless on a bed now, staring at me with a curious expression on his face and lyrics like those streaming through his head. Gosh, that boy has anger issues. Trust issues. So many gosh-darn issues that make incredible music and are absolutely none of my business.
“I saw your sister just got nominated for a Baxter Award,” Viv says, obviously trying to change the subject, which means I’m doing a terrible job at masking my reaction to the topic of Julian Campbell.
I glance over and force yet another smile. Not sure my sister’s inflated accomplishments is any improvement from the Julian subject, however. Can’t Viv just enjoy her boyfriend’s big moment in silence? When did we become the duo that needs to chitchat?
“Yep. We’re celebrating the amazing Jasmine Crawford tonight. Yay,” I mutter, twirling my finger in the air.
Viv smirks. “Celebrating, huh? Private jet trip to Tahiti?”
“Close. Private dinner at April Mist.”
“The brunch spot? Are they open for dinner service? I thought they only did brunch.”