Andrew
“ It doesn’t fit,” Danielle says, frustrated.
“Andy, this isn’t working!”
“Relax,” he says, going for a different tactic, “I can’t do anything if you don’t relax.”
“I am relaxed, it’s just not going to fit!”
“I swear, it’s the right size,” Andrew says, readjusting the skate before trying to ease Danielle’s foot in again, “I triple checked with the rink person, and held up your shoe for comparison. ”
“I don’t think shoes are an accurate comparison to blades of death,” Danielle says, folding her arms over her chest.
“They are not blades of death ,” Andrew says, rolling his eyes fondly. He looks over Danielle’s shoulder to see Harper wobbling around on her own pair of skates, and tries again to slide Danielle’s foot in.
This time, he’s caught her off guard, and it goes in easily.
“They are, though,” Danielle says, “I saw that video of that guy who got his jugular cut and bled out on the ice, Andy, don’t tell me you can’t die doing this.”
“That was a freak thing,” Andrew replies as he laces her skate. “I’m not going to let you cut your jugular. You just have to trust me.”
He slides the other one onto her foot, testing the ankle support with his hands as he does so. He’s surprised at the quality of rental skates here. Most places offer cheap skates he wouldn’t give anyone, let alone a beginner, but these ones are really nice.
Of course, his are custom-fit Bauer Vapor Hyperlites, but he’s not going to tell Danielle that. Or how much they cost, for that matter .
Or how much it cost him to rent the rink out for an hour so that the three of them could be completely alone. He doesn’t flash his money around often, but when it’s warranted, it’s nice to be able to.
And the current rink manager is a Canes fan, so he gave Andrew a decent price. Not many people are skating in July. They’re there to experience the rink, not actually use it.
If she likes being on the ice, he might have to get her a pair. He’s already got a set on the way for Harper.
This is a big deal for him, and not only because he’s teaching the girls he’s started to think of as his , how to do his favorite thing in the world. It’s also a big deal because of where they are and what happened in this building almost forty-five years earlier.
Andrew is about to skate on the Herb Brooks Arena ice.
Something he had only ever dreamed of when he was a kid.
Something his dad had talked about for years, as if the USA v.
Russia game had only happened the day before.
His grandparents had known Herb Brooks, since he’d grown up in St. Paul, but had lost touch with him after he’d moved to Sweden and then on to coach NHL teams in the 90’s.
Andy had never met him, only heard the stories .
JT had grown up skating in this rink, so it wasn’t such a big deal for him. But for Andrew, someone who had watched the highlights of that game religiously as a kid, this was a dream. As someone who had parents who followed Herb Brook’s teams, no matter who he was coaching, this was a big deal.
That team and this rink were a huge part of his history as a player, and part of why hockey is his sport to begin with.
Every morning when he’d woken up, he’d seen the words " You were born to be a player. You were meant to be here. This moment is yours ” scrawled in messy ten-year-old writing across his bathroom mirror.
When he went to college he’d taped a paper with the quote on it on the wall next to his bed. It was the first thing he’d see in the mornings when he’d drag himself out of bed for early practice, and the last thing he’d see at night when he got back from a late game.
He’d written them at the back of his locker at PNC, kept an index card with them on the dash of his truck.
They were words that he’d lived and breathed by for almost his entire life. Herb Brooks, in a way, was responsible for the player he is .
This is also only the second time he’s been on ice in over a month. He cannot understate the gravity of this moment for him. Core memory being formed, if core memories are a thing when you’re over thirty.
Today is a good day. He’d woken up next to Danielle, after spending the entire night kissing and talking and laughing before falling asleep. He doesn’t think he’s ever done that with a woman.
He’s never even wanted to. Not when he was well aware that most women in his life, since he had been in college, at least, had only been using him as an elevation of their status.
Or as a prize to be won and paraded around, touted as a one-night escapade to get their fifteen minutes.
He liked to think that he was better than, and worth more than, fifteen minutes.
For them, it was just to get in the papers the next morning when they would leave the front door of whatever hotel they’d been at.
He’d chalked it up as part of the thrill of being in the NHL, part of the expectation.
A millionaire playboy who had a different girl every two weeks and never seemed to let it bother him.
They’d only ever wanted a piece of him, like he was a trophy, and until recently he’d played right into their hands .
Danielle is different, and she’s been different since the moment he’d walked into Spine Crackers for the first time.
He didn’t feel like he had to perform, and she didn’t pressure him into anything more than kissing and falling asleep.
So, he’d given her the same respect because she was a woman and deserved it, and they had just decided to give a relationship a try.
Even though she’d had him like putty under her hands and he would have gone wherever she wanted to.
Now he gets to teach her how to skate, to share the most important part of himself with her.
He helps Danielle stand and get her balance with a grin. “Think you can walk?”
“Walk on razor blades?” she asks, holding onto his elbow as she gets used to the feeling. “Sure. If I can manage stilettos, I can do this.”
“You have stilettos?” he asks, letting his mind wander, very briefly, to what she would look like in heels like that.
She glares at him, like she knows exactly what he’s thinking.
“In the back corner of my closet,” she replies, “where I don’t have to look at them so I can pretend I don’t have them at all. ”
“Damn,” he says, under his breath. Danielle hits his chest with the back of her hand and he laughs. “I think I like you better in skates, anyway. Harper, are you ready?”
“I’ve been ready for twenty minutes,” Harper says, rolling her eyes. “You guys are taking forever.”
“Hey, yell at Aunt D, not me,” Andrew says, holding his hands up in surrender. Danielle laughs, wobbling a little before catching herself and tightening her grip on his elbow.
He leads her out to the rink slowly, making sure she has her balance as Harper runs in front of them to the door. It’s sitting open with a folding chair next to it for them to use, as well as a cone, and he grins. It’s just like when he learned how to skate.
“I’m going to go cut up the ice a little bit before I take you guys out there,” he says, looking at the glassy surface. “It’ll be easier for both of you.”
He also wants to have his moment, but he doesn’t say that.
Just because this is a big deal for him doesn’t mean he has to advertise it .
Danielle and Harper sit on the first level of bleachers, and Andrew walks to the door, grinning over his shoulder before he steps onto the ice. He takes off, skating around the boards at full speed before slowing down, the crisp air filling his lungs.
He’d spent an hour shooting around at a smaller rink with JT a few days ago, and he knew then that he’s missed this more than he’d realized.
He sweeps his eyes around the arena, invisible crowd cheering as he moves in a slower lap.
The ice has been home for as long as he can remember, and he thinks that he’s finally getting back to why.
His skates cut through the ice easily as he moves back towards the door of the arena, grin on his face as he skids to a stop, spraying snow on Harper.
She laughs in delight, and Andrew grabs the chair from inside the door. He unfolds it and sets it on the ice just in front of the door, nodding for Harper to hold on.
“Alright, bug,” he says, “you’re going to want to walk when you get on the ice, but you have to glide. The chair is for balance.”
“What do you mean glide?” she asks, eyes wide as she holds onto the back of the chair .
He grins, pulling the chair further on the ice for her. He turns it so she’s also next to the boards, just in case she wants something a little bit more solid to hold onto.
“You use one foot to push, and balance on the other.” Andrew says. “Like this.”
He pushes off with his right foot, gliding on his left, before setting his right foot down and repeating the process. Harper watches, tongue between her teeth, holding onto the chair as she tries.
“It’s okay if you try to walk while you’re figuring it out,” he says, skating beside her slowly, “or until you know how the ice feels. It’s not what you’re used to, but it’s a lot easier.”
“You won’t let me fall, right?” Harper asks, looking up at him. He nods.
“I won’t let you fall,” he says, “that’s why I gave you the chair, and you’re skating next to the wall. And I’m here to catch you if anything happens.”
She nods, taking short steps until she’s brave enough to try to glide. She catches on quicker than Andrew expects, but little kids are always quicker on the uptake .
The five-nine brunette on the other side of the boards is going to be a lot harder to teach. And not just because she’s clearly nervous, biting at her thumbnail as she watches Harper.
“Are you okay if I get Aunt D?” Andrew asks, turning around to skate backwards next to Harper. Harper’s eyes widen as she watches him, but she nods.
“She’s a scaredy cat, sometimes,” she says, “you might need to hold her hand.”
“Best wing woman ever,” Andrew says, laughing as he changes direction and skates back to the door.