The answer’s an unsurprising yet still disappointing one. For once, I’m speechless. My feelings about Aaron Carlisle are understandably not great and I feel like I’ve earned that. But this is fucking weird. He either has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to nutrition or does this on purpose. “Anastasia, you aremassivelyundereating. You’re not eating enough, not even close.”
I’m trying not to seem like I’m telling her off or belittling her; this isn’t her fault. She takes the paper back, running her eyes across the page. “What do you mean?”
“Your body burns calories just by you being alive. So you need to fuel your body to live. Someone who burns as many calories as you do, through skating and strength training, needs to eat even more to make sure your muscles recover.”
“I’m fine.”
“Not eating enough makes you more prone to injury and serious health problems. Have you always bruised as badly as you do now?”
Her mind must be going a mile a minute. She’s frozen on the spot, clearly trying to take in what I’m saying. “Maybe? I don’t know.”
I noticed a while ago she’s always covered in bruises. I put it down to falls and stuff, but now I’ve seen them close, I know how bad they are.
“Bruising badly can be a sign of nutrient deficiency. Are you tired a lot? Anxious? Irritable for no reason? Changes to your menstrual cycle?”
“Jesus Christ, Nate.” She fumes, looking around us to make sure no one is listening. She lowers her voice. “I’m tired, anxious, and irritable because I work hard. Surely you know better than anyone that it comes with the job.”
“Stas…”
“And as far as my menstrual cycle is concerned, which is none of your fucking business, I’m on birth control that fully stops it. I haven’t had one in years.”
She folds her arms across her chest and sits back in her seat. Defiance, annoyance, a sliver of uncertainty. It isn’t my intention to upset her, but I’m also not going to let her eat like this.
“There are hardly any carbs in this plan.”
“So?”
“You need carbs, Stassie. I’m not asking you to fill yourself on junk food, but you need to eat more calories, baby. I can write you a new plan; we’ll give them both to Brady and see which she prefers.”
“Fine.” She shrugs. “Whatever.”
“Did Ryan look at your meal plan?”
Her eyebrows furrow together. “What, no? Why?”
Thinking back to the video call a month ago, I’ve been meaning to bring up what Ryan said but haven’t had a chance after everything that’s happened. “Ryan said once that Aaron was trying to control what you ate.”
She rolls her eyes. “Ignore Ryan. He’d make me eat KFC every night, which is not realistic. I don’t have his superhuman metabolism. Aaron says he struggles to lift me sometimes, it makes Ryan cranky.”
What the fuck.“He said hestrugglesto lift you?”
“If I don’t stick to the plan, yeah. Sometimes my weight fluctuates a little.”
Dragging my hand down my face, I suppress the anger brewing. The arena sharing situation doesn’t mean only the rink, it also means the gym. I’ve seen Aaron comfortably lift twice Anastasia’s weight. He might not be a big guy, but he is strong. “He’s fucking unhinged, Stas.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I don’t want to argue about this because it’s not your fault. But the guy is controlling you and showing this to Brady will prove it.”
She huffs, rubbing her temples with her eyes closed. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“It’s because I care.”
“Can you care in a way that isn’t going to cause me tons of problems?”
“We’ll sort it together, I promise.”
Reaching across the table, her hand lands on top of mine, and she squeezes it. “I’m going to get us some food. I’ll be back.”