Healing Ice by Anne T. Thyssen

Author:Anne T. Thyssen [Thyssen, Anne T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

-Jaze-

It proved challenging to let the matter rest. So naturally, I found myself crossing Samira’s path again the following day. As she entered, I happened to be approaching from the opposite direction. Purposefully, as she attempted to sidestep me, I moved left to block her path, only to mimic her movement when she tried the opposite side. An eyebrow arched on her forehead. Trying the other direction again, I replicated her motion.

"Seriously?" she snapped at me.

"What? I'm just trying to pass by, but you seem to get in my way," I teased.

"Not in the mood today, Jaze."

"Yesterday you didn't appear to be in the mood either. Oh, wait, my mistake, you were very much in the mood," I teased.

She crossed her arms, her eyes carrying an icy stare that held little warmth. I sensed it was time to retreat, so I turned, sweeping my hand in the air.

"Proceed, fire. I'll grant you some space."

"I'll believe it when I see it," she muttered as she walked past, which brought a smile to my face.

It didn't take long for Samira to get herself ready to step onto the ice. I took a moment to observe her as she laced up her skates, but I noticed a long yawn escape her, a sign of an unusual level of fatigue. She seemed to be struggling with tying one of her skates, and her entire demeanor radiated exhaustion—deeply concerning exhaustion. I moved a bit closer, and she caught sight of me, emitting a frustrated sigh.

"Not now, Jaze."

"Need assistance?" I asked, holding my hand out toward her skate. She glanced down, evidently struggling with her fingers today.

Defeated, she sighed and leaned back, extending her foot. Crouching down, I began securing the laces. I stole a glance at her.

"Are you okay? You seem really tired."

"Just a lot on my mind, but I'm fine," she replied, although the edge in her voice told me otherwise. She was not fine, and I had reservations about her heading out onto the ice.

"Maybe you shouldn't give it a hundred precent today," I suggested, standing up and extending my hand to her.

She rolled her eyes, pushed herself off the bench, and gave me a look as if I were foolish for offering to help her stand. I couldn't help but smile a bit. Her foot wasn't injured—she was capable of standing on her own. I lowered my hand, studying her for a moment.

"Usually, I give a hundred and ten percent. Dialing it back to a hundred would be like slowing down," she explained.

"All right, how about we lower it to a hundred then?"

"No," she retorted.

"I should have expected that response. Samira, you just seem..."

"Seem what?" she asked, but I struggled to find words to convey the level of exhaustion etched across her features. It was the kind of weariness that signaled someone was on the verge of collapse. It was deeply unsettling.

"You don't appear ready for a hundred and ten percent today. Maybe settle for a hundred," I suggested.

"I can't do that," she replied.

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