Page 68 of Lose You Twice

I kept it because I loved him.

Then I kept it because throwing it away felt like throwing out a piece of my soul.

I sit on the edge of my bed with it in my hands.

The fabric is thin now. One seam near the hem has started to tear open. It smells like my detergent, not him, which I am not sad about. Not at all. I also most definitely didn’t sniff colognes anytime I could, trying to find whatever he smelt like. Sadly, I had no luck, which also wasn’t a big deal.

You know you are more than full of shit right now.

That is the problem with Kai Mercer. One simple memory can make me feel like I’m still seventeen, still waiting for headlights in the driveway, still listening for his text tone under my pillow.

But I’m not seventeen anymore.

I’m almost twenty-one. I have a job, classes, a family that needs me, a financial aid appeal still sitting somewhere in a system that doesn’t care whether my dad pays what he owes.

Even then, after I hop in the shower and quickly wash off the day, it’s Kai’s shirt I slip on before crawling between the sheets.

10

KAI

Iwalk into the rink Thursday morning with a weird level of energy buzzing through me. I wish I could say it was thanks to the coffee in my hand, but that would be a lie.

Wren has been working with the team for almost a week, and I can’t say that I haven’t both enjoyed and hated seeing her more and more often. Thankfully, it’s not every single day, yet still often enough that I find myself getting more excited on the mornings I know I’ll see her.

I woke up before my alarm, and it had absolutely nothing to do with knowing what time Wren was coming into work this morning. Definitely not.

It wasn’t hard to stay home until our normal rink time either. Not at all. I snort at that thought.

Lies. Lies. Lies.

Donnelly and Wren are standing by the towel bins, organizing and sorting what seems to be the clean laundry. “Gray bin, Calloway. Not blue.”

“I was testing your commitment to the system,” Wren replies, and I stop before I can talk myself out of it.

Wren is wearing black leggings, sneakers, and a gray PCU Athletics sweatshirt that’s too big on her, and for half a second, my mind tricks me into thinking it’s mine. Then I remember, she wasn’t mine at any point in my time here.

Get it together, dude.

Her hair is clipped up, but a few pieces have escaped around her face. She has a clipboard tucked under one arm and a stack of towels balanced against her hip.

She looks tired.

She also looks focused.

That combination hits me harder than it should.

Donnelly looks up and catches me standing there. “Mercer. You waiting for an invitation to help?”

“No.”

Wren’s eyes lift to mine.

For one second, neither of us moves. Nothing about it should feel charged. Donnelly is right there.

Still, my attention drops to the loose strand of hair near her cheek.

I know better than to want to fix it, but my hand twitches with the urge to reach out all the same.