Page 46 of The Recovery Coach
The album she showed him had pictures of her in red lingerie, spread out in tasteful, sexy poses.Hazy’s mouth went dry.His mom’s words, ‘But you’ve never thought about maybe being a little...more?’rang through his head.He was having an existential crisis about his best friend, and he hated it.His dick didn’t.It twitched in his pants.
“These are great,” he managed to get out.“But not for your profile.”
He opened his photo app, navigated to the album titled ‘Livy,’ selected five candids he’d taken over the last few weeks, and sent them to her.“Use those,” he said as her phone dinged, then excused himself to spiral in the privacy of his own room.
Belly flopping onto his bed gave him the emotional satisfaction of a toddler kicking and screaming, but it hurt his leg.He twisted to lie on his side and rubbed the ache away.His concern with Livy’s love life needed to stop.And his dick needed to remember that she was like his sister.
Later, Livy stood over him as he did his physical therapy exercises.Most of them required him to lie flat on the floor, and she would need to help him stand.She counted his reps out loud while he raised his injured leg in the air, testing his range of motion.
He finished one exercise and moved to the next.Out of the blue, she said, “Jayden asked me what my life plans are over Thanksgiving.”
Hazy grunted while he switched exercises.She continued counting his reps.Between sets he asked, “What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything.”She sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.“I feel so stuck.”
His leg threatened to fall off, but he pulled his knee to his chest again anyway.“You’re going to date again.That’s something.”
Livy wrote something in the notebook she’d been using to track his physical therapy exercises.Robbie advised him to do some exercises under Livy’s supervision every day and come into the practice rink three times a week.Livy was a drill sergeant, ruthless in her adherence to the rules.
“I guess,” she said.“It could take me years to find someone, though.”
Hazy, breathing hard, said, “I always heard love finds you the second you stop looking.”
“That’s what sad, lonely people say to make themselves feel better,” Livy said.
She lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the floor, counting aloud as he struggled through his routine.
“I guess.But you have other goals you could work on.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” she said.
He furrowed his brow as he finished his set, confused.“What do you mean?”
Livy huffed.“Name one long-term goal.”
Hazy didn’t hesitate.“Win a Cup.”
Rolling her eyes, Livy said, “That’s been your only goal since you were ten.What about other stuff?”
He collapsed onto his yoga mat, thrilled to be done for the day.“What other stuff?”
“Anything other than hockey.”
Hazy stared at the ceiling and rubbed his forehead, debating what else he could work toward.“I want my damn leg to heal.”
“That’s still hockey-related.”
“Not only hockey.Having a broken leg is super inconvenient.”
Livy wrote a note in her sparkly purple journal, then slammed it shut.
“We should create a vision board.If you write it down, it has to get done, right?”
“You said that when you were 12, and 16, and 20, and I still have no Stanley Cup to speak of.”
As kids they’d spent countless hours cutting pictures out of magazines to create collages of their dream lives.He’d never found the activity fruitful, but flipping through pictures of beautiful people had never been a chore.
She pursed her lips.“You’re closer now than you’ve ever been.”
