“No shit? There’s no ice around here.” I’d just about cut off a testicle to get in my pads and play. I missed it. The noise of the crowd. The silence in my head. The feel of the blade against the ice. God, the smell in the rink. It was a bitch to go from playing every day in college to nothing.

“Not here, but in Montgomery. Worth the drive to you?”

“Hell, yes.”

Josh nodded. “I’ll let them know we’re interested. I have to pack my clothes.”

“What?” I called out. “I figured you spent every weekend naked!”

He flipped me the bird and kept walking. His sex life wasn’t ever up for discussion. I respected that, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t give him shit over it. I tossed the empty pizza box in the recycling pile, grabbed my keys, and headed out. I had two hours before formation; I could make it to the library.

SERE had sucked royally. But the one thing that pulled me through the hours spent in that tiny fucking box? Thinking about those green eyes. I was everything she didn’t need: self-destructive, egotistical, and reckless. But damn if she didn’t feel like what I needed. Even as only friends, I’d take whatever piece of her I could get.

Pumpkins lined the patio of our next-door neighbor’s house, and the little old lady shook her head at me and pointed to the huge USPS box on the patio. They’d delivered the held mail. I picked up the box by the handles and placed it just inside the front door. Well, except the envelope right on top. I folded that one and stuck it in the cargo pocket of my shorts.

I’d deal with that later.

I pulled the door shut, walking the small weed-ridden sidewalk to the driveway. I needed to do something about that with all my spare time. Weeds. Mortgage. Landscaping. Sometimes I wanted to retreat to the apartment I’d shared with Josh the last two years.

I waved politely to our neighbor. “Good afternoon, Mrs. King.” She’d made it clear she wasn’t happy about having flight school students buy the house next door, like we would immediately haul in a keg and keep it in the backyard. What did we look like? A bunch of immature college kids?

We’d already installed the kegerator in the kitchen.

She pursed her lips under her giant gardening hat. “Those dahlias never looked that sad when the Robertsons owned the house.”

I stifled my laugh. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll work on that.”

“You be sure you do.” She grumbled all the way into her house.

Sign up to defend your country? You’re an immature kid. But take care of your dahlias? Man, that made you an upstanding citizen. Reminder—Google dahlias.

The drive to the library felt longer than it took, even with the stop for another Gatorade, and I nearly fist pumped when I saw her car in the lot. What the hell was wrong with me?

The library door closed softly behind me, and I breathed in the scent of books in the air-conditioning. Even in October it was on. Alabama didn’t really have a fall. It was more like, “at least it’s not as hot as September.”

I hung my sunglasses from the first button on my shirt, pushed the sleeves up past my elbows, and reminded myself not to run in the library. I rounded the corner—

“May I help you?”

Shit. It was the wenchy one. At least the older lady, Alice, liked me, but this one was impossible. I think her bun was wound entirely too tight. “Is Paisley here?”

She huffed, glancing at the closed bottle of Gatorade in my hand, and pulled an imaginary strand of brunette hair behind her ear. “She’s in the back room. You’ll have to wait.”

I flashed a grin and was rewarded by a miniscule softening of her features. “No problem, ma’am, I can find it.”

I didn’t wait for her reply, instead headed past the students studying, like I should have been. My palms started sweating…over seeing my friend? What the fuck? I could handle half the sorority girls at school, but this girl had me on my damn knees…in the friend zone. Pathetic as it felt, I was just happy to be on the field.

I slid open the door. A quick scan of the room told me she wasn’t in here. “Paisley?” I called out in case.

A pale hand rose from behind a small stack of boxes. “Here.”

She sounded like shit. I sidestepped through the maze of boxes. “Hey, I wanted to see if you had that list of supplies to star— Holy shit! Paisley?” I dropped to my knees next to where she sat on the floor, her eyes closed, leaning against the stack of boxes while she took quick breaths. I did a quick check. Her forehead was clammy, but she had the energy to swat my hand away.

“Jagger?” Her eyes opened, the green still as brilliant as I remembered. “I’m okay.” She gave me a weak smile.

“This does not look okay.”

She squeezed my hand, breathing rapidly. “I’m not feeling well. Give me a second to catch my breath. I think it’ll just be another minute.”

“You think? You’re camped out on the floor where no one could find you if something happened, and you think?” I unscrewed the lid on my Gatorade and passed it to her. “Drink. Then we’re taking you to a doctor.”

She didn’t argue and downed almost half of the bottle. “Thank you, but I don’t need a doctor. It’s over now, and he knows all about it.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “I’m really okay.”

“Asthma?” I guessed. “I’ve seen it in a few of my friends, and this is how they all looked after attacks.”