"In pairs skating, I spent years making myself smaller to lift Sam up. Literally and figuratively. I suppressed my own talent to make him look better. Sacrificed my dreams so he could achieve his. That was my way of proving I was worth keeping—by being useful, by never being too much, by always putting someone else first."
She finished cleaning my face and moved to check my ribs, her fingers gentle but professional as they probed for broken bones.
"We're both caretakers who never learned to accept care," I said.
"Yeah." She pressed against my ribs, and I winced. "Sorry. This one's bruised badly."
"It's fine."
"It's not fine. You need ice and rest and—Blake, are you falling asleep?"
I wasn't. I was just closing my eyes because having Mira's hands on me felt too good and I needed a moment to compose myself.
"Just tired," I mumbled.
"Come on. Let's get you to bed."
She helped me—which was unnecessary because I could walk fine, but I wasn't about to argue with an excuse to have her support. Once there, she made me lie down and brought ice packs, arranging them carefully around my ribs.
"Stay," I said when she started to leave. "Please. Just until I fall asleep."
She hesitated, then sat on the edge of my bed. "Okay."
I patted the space next to me. "You'll get a crick in your neck sitting like that."
"I'm fine—"
"Mira. Lay down. I won't do anything inappropriate. I just—" I struggled to find words. "I just want you close."
She lay down beside me carefully, mindful of my injuries. I shifted so her head was on my chest, my arm around her shoulders, her small frame tucked against my side.
"This okay?" I asked.
"Yeah," she whispered. "This is okay."
We lay there in comfortable silence, her weight against me grounding and perfect. I felt her breathing gradually even out, her body relaxing into sleep.
I stayed awake. Not because of pain—though my ribs definitely hurt. Not because of adrenaline—though that was still coursing through me. But because Mira was sleeping against mychest, trusting me with something precious, and I wanted to memorize every second.
The weight of her. The sound of her breathing. The way her hand curled loosely in my shirt. The trust implicit in her unconscious vulnerability.
I'd been fighting to protect people my whole life. But lying there with Mira asleep on my chest, I realized that maybe—finally—I'd found someone who saw past my size and violence to the person underneath who just wanted to be chosen, to be kept, to be loved.
And maybe she was trusting me with the same hope.
Chapter 14: Mira
The email from the athletic department arrived at 7 AM, destroying my day before it even started.
Dear Miss Torres,
Due to the overwhelming success of your work with the hockey team, the athletic department would like to extend your services to include the men's basketball team. This will be effective immediately and will require approximately 15-20 hours per week in addition to your current hockey commitment...
I stared at my laptop, my coffee going cold, my brain refusing to process what I was reading.
They wanted me to work with the basketball team. In addition to hockey. While maintaining my course load. And dealing with my complicated feelings for three men who lived in my house.
I showed the email to Nolan over breakfast, expecting practical advice or strategic suggestions. Instead, his expression went dark in a way I'd only seen during games when opponents played dirty.
