Chapter 9
Alondra
My hands are steady despite my heart hammering in my chest as I pull the laces tight on my skates, the muscle memory coming back to me like I never stopped.
Dad mentioned last night how he gave the team the morning off to rest before their first game tonight, but even then I didn’t want to risk someone walking in on me, so here I am at five o’clock in the morning, staring at the ice again.
I take a few steps closer to the crystal-clear ice, free of any imperfections, but I falter once I reach the gate, and now my hands are shaking as I take off the skate guards, and my side aches from the memory of the last time I skated.
It isn’t real, I remind myself, trying to shake the nerves.
I pull the edges of my long sleeves over my hands, fisting the soft fabric as my breathing quickens.
God, I’m nervous, and there’s no reason to be.
Jack was nervous during tutoring yesterday, but he’s trying, which is more than I can say.
I’ve spent nine months staring at the thing I love most, too afraid of someone who doesn’t have the power to inflict any more pain on me to do a damn thing.
It’s been a year since I skated, but I didn’t let myself even look at the ice while I was still with Bradley.
I reach forward to grab the top of the boards, and I don’t give myself a chance to second guess it, forcing my feet onto the slick surface.
“I did it,” I whisper, feeling tears well up in my eyes, and I let them fall.
I push off the ice, gliding forward as the cool air stings my cheeks. Tension I didn’t even realize I was still carrying seems to melt away as I relax, losing myself in the moment.
I know I can never be who I once was—the innocence of not knowing what it felt like for someone I love to lay a hand on me is gone—but this feels like one step closer to finding myself again.
I’ve been going through the motions, purely existing because I had to and not because I wanted to.
Right now, I don’t want to go through the motions. I want to be unpredictable like a kite dancing in the wind, free of any responsibilities tying it down.
I spin. I laugh. I smile.
I spread my arms out to pretend I’m an airplane when I follow the wide curves of the rink.
I skate.
Minnesota might not be where I wanted to stay, but maybe it’s where I need to be. I’ll never admit it to my parents, though. All I’d hear is an I told you so.
I pick up speed until I feel like I’m flying.
The flyaways that have escaped from my braid are fluttering around my face, but I feel alive.
Eyeing the exact spot where I want to land, I use my speed and toe pick to propel myself into the air and spin twice to see if I can still land a double toe.
I used to spend hours working on my jumps to execute them flawlessly when I was competing, both on ice and off ice.
Except it’s been a while.
I haven’t kept up with the proper training to get the height I need to complete both turns, and I land hard, busting my ass on the ice. I’m quick to push myself up again, continuing to try despite falling repeatedly. It’s comical how out of shape I am, but my face hurts from smiling.
I go again and again, the scraping sound of my blades on the ice is music to my ears, and I’ve finally escaped the black hole I’ve been trapped in, letting me feel everything.
My whole body aches, but I don’t regret a single moment, only wishing I’d worked up the courage sooner to come out here. Turning, I move to skate back toward the exit when I notice a lone figure watching me next to where I’ve left my things.
My smile drops in an instant, and I can only imagine how many questions are running through the hockey captain’s head. I was so lost in feeling like my old self again that I have no idea how long he’s been standing there.
His gaze is intense and unwavering as I brush past him, quickly dropping into a seat to pull my skates off and wipe the blades off before covering them with soakers.
Jack’s presence is hard to ignore as he looms over me, and I hold my breath.
“Darlin’, where did you learn to skate like that?” he asks, his voice rough, and I avoid meeting his gaze.
“I don’t skate.”
He scoffs, the sound echoing off the walls of the otherwise silent arena. “Oh, so you were possessed by some magical demon who gets off on the adrenaline rush of skating?”
My lips press into a flat line. No one was supposed to see me here. Not even Jack.
“What are you even doing here?” I ask, finally lifting my head. “You have a game tonight. My dad said he cancelled morning skate for the team and that no one was supposed to be here.”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” Jack retaliates, and I glare at him, but it’s not his fault I haven’t skated in nearly a year. “I’m working with an underclassman on drills per your dad’s request, and he wanted to get in a quick session this morning before our game tonight.”
I grab my bag and stand up, forcing Jack to move back to give me space. I feel off-balance now, and Mom always used to say I’m more graceful on ice than on land.
Jack’s voice softens, and he shakes his head. “Dammit. Please, will you just talk to me?”
I know it’s because I’m scared and feeling vulnerable right now that I lash out at him instead of communicating with him like a normal person, knowing I’ll regret it later.
“Why should I?” I ask, tucking the stray curls that have fallen out of my braid behind my ear.
“I know literally nothing about you! It goes both ways, buddy.”
Jack was taller than me to begin with, but add the skates, and he really is larger than life.
I feel like I’m at a disadvantage for having already taken mine off.
He chews on his bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth before tugging a hand through his hair.
I’ve started to notice Jack does that a lot, and I wonder if it’s a nervous tic for him.
“You asked me last week if I tell people about my dad, and it’s not on my list of conversation starters, but when he does come up, I tell people he’s dead because he might as well be.
He’s in prison, and I hope he stays there for as long as fucking possible after the hell he put me and my momma through,” Jack says, and his chest might as well be cracked wide open because I can feel every bit of the raw emotion pouring from him.
Jack’s mouth parts like he’s surprised to have said it, but I don’t ask any questions.
I step forward without thinking to wrap my arms around him, catching him by surprise as it dawns on me that we might have more in common than either of us would have guessed.
His arms are slow to close around me, but I don’t miss the quiet sigh of relief Jack lets out. I don’t know how long we stand there, but a reminder of where we are is enough for me to untangle myself from him, stepping back.
He’s staring at me in a way that I can’t tell what he’s thinking, and this feels like a bigger moment than it should be.
“How was my worst?” I ask, trying to lighten the air.
Jack chuckles, shaking his head at me, but the question does make him smile. “Shut up, I’m not answering that.”
The tension of being caught on the ice slips away from me, but whoever Jack is waiting on could show up any minute, and I need to get out of here.
“Why not? I think my hug was a ten out of ten,” I argue.
“Solid four.”
My jaw drops because there’s no way, and I push his stupidly muscular chest in retaliation. “Liar,” I say, calling Jack on his bullshit and his smile widens.
“Oh, cry me a river. You gave my kiss a three.”
A snort slips from me, causing Jack to laugh again. “For as graceful as you were out there, that was the complete opposite,” he says, and my cheeks flush.
“It happens sometimes.” I shrug, maintaining my smile, but the high of skating is starting to fade, and I glance toward the doors where I’m sure his buddy is going to come out any second. “You didn’t see me out here, okay?”
“I’ll keep your secret for a kiss,” Jack teases, and I roll my eyes.
I kiss my hand, reaching up to press my palm to his cheek, trying not to let my hand linger for more than a few seconds.
Jack’s cheek is smooth, and he must have shaved this morning, but his skin is warm and the chill is settling into my hands.
“There you go,” I say, clearing my throat as I pull back. “That’s what a real kiss is like.”
“Your hands are cold.”
I stick my tongue out at him, tucking them into the sleeves of my shirt. “You’re the one who wanted a kiss. You didn’t specify what kind.” I turn away from him to grab my bag, pulling it up over my shoulder to carry it back to my car.
“Hey?”
“Yeah?”
Jack hesitates as I look back at him. “About my dad . . . I don’t . . .” He rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks tinted red.
He wants to know if I’m going to keep his secret.
“Don’t worry about it, Jack. We’ve all got our shit. My lips are sealed.”
His throat bobs as he swallows, dipping his chin in a nod. “Thanks. If you want to stash your bag somewhere for when you’re definitely not skating, I can put on top of my stall for safekeeping. Beats lugging them around campus.”
I hesitate, but I end up pulling the strap off my shoulder to hand it to him. “I don’t skate,” I repeat.
“Got it. You don’t skate.”
The clang of a door opening and shutting catches my attention, causing me to back away so quickly I almost trip over my own feet. “Schultz, you’re not going to make me puke before our game tonight, right?”
“Depends on how many shots you miss,” he calls back, setting my bag next to his stuff. “Thanks for dropping off my notes, Al. You’re a lifesaver.” Jack winks at me, and I sigh in relief, realizing he’s giving me an excuse to be seen here, even if his teammate doesn’t know who I am.
Correction: Jack is a lifesaver.
I make my escape, but I’m stopped in my tracks when I think the guy who shows up recognizes me, his head tilting as he looks me up and down. He squints, but I don’t stick around to find out if he figures it out.
Instead, I try to focus on clinging to the euphoric feeling of gliding across the ice again—it’s been a year too long without it.