Unsteady

by Peyton Corinne

She bends my wrist a little more, and I want to ask her to keep it there in her warm grip because this is the first anything, other than pain, I’ve felt in months.

But no matter how loudly I play the music, or how many times I fall while trying—and failing at—a triple axel, nothing can pull my focus from the hockey boy with the sad eyes.

A little vow to myself to steer clear of the boy with the sad eyes before I try to take his healing into my own hands.

But I’m in her orbit now, and she’s becoming my goddamn center of gravity. Whether she realizes it or not.

“It might not work, and I don’t really know what’s bothering you, but music helps me.”

“I like anything when it comes to you,”

Why would I be able to hold her together when she’s becoming the one keeping me intact?

I think I like what the aftermath of Sadie Gray looks like on me.

Does she know I’d kneel for her forever if it meant she’d look at me like that?

“Never. You and Oliver will always be with Sadie. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I will spend every day forever reminding you how amazing and special you are. How lucky I am to have someone so brave and smart and talented and beautiful love me. I see the way you love your brothers. I know how special your kind of love is.”