Page 73 of Lose You Twice

Not really alone. The rink entrance is twenty feet away. Donnelly is inside. Half the team is nearby making bad decisions.

Still, the air changes.

Wren runs her pen down the clipboard. “Black trunks, skate bag, spare helmets, medical kit…”

Her voice fades when she realizes I’m watching her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That sounded like something.”

“You’re good at this.”

She looks down at the clipboard again. “It’s towels and lists, Kai.”

“It’s details.”

“I’ve had practice with details.”

There’s an edge under that. Not sharp enough to cut, but enough to remind me to be careful.

“With your siblings?” I ask.

“With life.”

The answer is simple. Too simple. A whole room of things packed into two words.

My throat tightens.

I want to ask.

I don’t.

She clicks the pen once. “That face again.”

“What face now?”

“The one where you’re trying not to ask if I’m okay.”

I breathe out through my nose. “Are you?”

Her eyes meet mine.

For a second, I think she won’t answer. Then her shoulders drop, barely.

“I’m here,” she says.

That isn’t an answer.

It’s probably the only one she has.

I nod. “Okay.”

She studies me like she expected me to push and doesn’t know what to do when I don’t. There’s a small line between her brows, the one she gets when she’s deciding if she can trust a moment.

I remember that too.