7. Jaymie
Jaymie
Two weeks into PT and I was officially out of excuses.
My hamstring was improving. My mobility was on the rise.
I could get through most of Mallory’s sessions without cursing out loud.
And I hadn’t run into her in the elevator.
Which, somehow, made me even more anxious.
Because I’d decided, I was going to ask her out.
I’d thought about every angle. Every outcome. Every way she could laugh, or say no, or stare at me like I’d grown a third eye. But there was also this little, annoying hope in my chest that she might say yes. That maybe, maybe , she felt even half of what I did every time we were in the same room.
The way her eyes sparkled when she caught me complaining under my breath. The way she remembered what music I liked and queued it up without asking. The way she said my name, dry, amused, but just a little soft underneath. Yeah. I was screwed.
It was right after our session, she was walking toward the door, her stride easy, her ponytail bouncing like she didn’t know I was watching. Or maybe she did. God, I hoped she did.
I caught up before I could talk myself out of it. “Hey, Mallory,” I said, my voice too loud, too quick. Nerves zipped through my chest like a powerline snapping in a storm.
She turned to me, and just like that, everything else went quiet.
It always did with her. The background noise of the facility, the slap of skates on rubber mats, the beeping monitors, the distant laughter…just dropped away. Like she existed in a pocket of space carved out just for us.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and I wanted to memorize the way she moved. “Yeah?”
I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. Stupid habit. Nervous tell. “I was wondering if you’d want to go out sometime. Say dinner? A movie? Something that doesn’t involve foam rollers or me whining.”
She blinked, and something flickered behind her eyes. Surprise? Something softer?
But then her whole expression changed, subtle, but devastating.
Her gaze didn’t cool. It didn’t turn pitying. But it shifted .
And my stomach sank before she even said the words.
“Oh, Jaymie,” she said gently, like she already knew how much I’d want to take it back. “That’s sweet. Really.”
Sweet. I would’ve preferred a punch to the gut.
“But I, um…” She shifted her weight, her voice quiet. “I just started seeing someone. It’s really new, and… also, we work together. It might be weird.”
I nodded, trying to keep my face neutral.
Easy.
Relaxed.
Like it didn’t sting.
“Right. Of course. Totally get it.”
You don’t. You won’t ever, because no one ever makes you feel like this.
She added quickly, “You’re great. I just… think we’re better as friends and coworkers. We do work for the same team, we have to remember that.”
Friends. Coworkers. Teammates .
I offered a weak smile. Or maybe it was a grimace, I couldn’t tell anymore. “No worries. Thanks for not pretending to be sick to avoid me.”
That got a laugh out of her. Light, beautiful.
It made everything worse.
And then she was gone, walking away like she hadn’t just cracked something wide open in my chest and left it there to bleed out quietly. Her ponytail swayed with each step, and I watched her until she disappeared around the corner.
The hallway felt colder without her in it.
And I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ever stop feeling like I missed a chance I never really had.
Mallory
I lied.
Well—stretched the truth.
Okay, fine. It was technically a lie.
But it was easier than saying, “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and you make my stomach feel weird and my brain go soft.”
I sat at my desk, the one tucked behind the treatment rooms, and stared at my phone until the screen went dark.
Two dates. That’s all it had been with Jackson. One coffee, one dinner, both initiated via Tinder. He was polite, polished, worked in finance. Predictable. Liked to talk about craft beer and his stock portfolio. Perfectly not her type.
But when Jaymie Prescott looked at me like I hung the moon?
Jackson didn’t stand a chance.
I opened my messages and tapped on Dakota’s name.
Mallory
Just turned down the hockey player.
Might be an idiot.
Dakota
WHICH ONE
Prescott
OH MY GOD THE CUTE ONE WITH GLASSES
why?!?
We work together. Also technically seeing someone?
TWO DATES FROM TINDER DO NOT COUNT
especially if you’re thinking about the OTHER GUY DAILY
It felt… safer. Professional. Less messy.
Love isn’t safe. It’s messy, loud, stupid and amazing.
Also he’s hot and you’re clearly into him so WHAT ARE YOU DOING
I groaned, resting my head on my forearm.
She wasn’t wrong.
But she wasn’t here. She didn’t see the way Jaymie looked at me like I was already something to lose. She didn’t know how badly I needed my job to be clean, focused, untangled .
Still… the moment I said no, I’d seen it. That little flicker of something behind Jaymie’s eyes, right before he smiled like it didn’t matter.
But it had.
And now I had to pretend it didn’t matter to me too.