Chapter 15 #2
She is in front of him in a second, skidding to a stop so sharp that the ice flares up from her blades and rains down on the poor goalie like a frozen confetti shower.
"Are you okay?" She grabs the cage of the helmet she is still wearing, pushing it up so she can see him properly. "I cut it too close. I am so sorry. Did it graze you?"
Etienne is gawking at her.
Not at the puck. Not at the near-miss. At her. At the girl in his helmet and Cal's jersey who just dismantled an entire rookie squad and is now hovering over him with genuine concern in those hazel eyes like she did not just perform an athletic miracle.
"Tu es la femme la plus incroyable que j'aie jamais vue," he breathes.
Mae giggles, the sound warm and flustered, and a blush blooms across her cheekbones.
She sticks out her tongue, scratching her head with a sheepish innocence that looks so fucking cute against the backdrop of the chaos she just orchestrated.
"What?" She grins. "You like what you see?"
Etienne's storm-blue eyes darken.
"Je te mettrai sur mon épaule et te baiserai dans le vestiaire si c'est comme ca que tu joues," he growls, low enough that most people cannot hear but loud enough that I catch every single syllable.
Did he just threaten to fuck her in the locker room? In French? During practice?
Sage's whistle cuts across the rink like a siren.
"ETIENNE LAURENT!" She skates over with her stick raised like a gavel. "Did I just hear you swear?! In FRENCH?! You are supposed to be the gentleman of this pack! The classy one! The one who reads poetry and blushes when girls look at him!"
Archie slides his glasses back on, cracking his neck with the casual disinterest of someone who has seen enough.
"Eww. Y'all get a room if you are so turned on by her average performance."
Mae whips around.
"Fuck off, Archie! Average? That was art and you know it! You are just mad because I got two extra scores more than you."
Archie huffs, crossing his arms with the affront of a man whose mathematics have been questioned.
"I calculated my shots properly. I held back deliberately because if I had given full strength, the puck would have hit Sage, and she is not wearing protective gear. It was a safety-conscious decision, not a skill deficiency."
Sage freezes mid-skate.
"Oh." Her voice goes oddly soft. "Wait. You were not going full throttle because I was in the way? You held back to avoid hurting me?"
She presses her hand against her chest.
"Well, that is kind of romantic."
Archie's face erupts in crimson from his chin to his hairline.
"I am leaving."
He turns to skate toward the exit, but he does not get two strides before half the team rushes onto the ice, blocking his escape route.
"FUCK NO, YOU ARE NOT!"
The guys are already surrounding him, clapping his shoulders, shaking him, begging him to join the squad with the desperation of fans who just discovered a secret weapon.
"Bro, you HAVE to play for us!"
"Coach was right, man, you are insane out there!"
"We will literally carry your textbooks for a semester if you sign up!"
Archie cringes, his face a portrait of horror at the social attention.
"Fuck to the no," he says firmly, trying to push past them. "I am an academic. I watch the sport. I do not play the sport. There is a critical distinction that you are all choosing to ignore."
I leave the boys to their begging and glide onto the ice, landing beside Mae as she pulls Etienne's helmet off her head and shakes her hair free. The dark strands are damp with sweat and fall around her face in messy waves that she pushes behind her ears.
"Damn," she murmurs, looking out across the rink with an expression that sits somewhere between exhilaration and grief. "It has been a while since I have skated like that. I forgot what it felt like. The speed. The cold. The way everything else just disappears when you are moving."
Etienne skates up to her other side, his expression still carrying the dazed quality of a man who has been spiritually rearranged.
"You said you did figure skating," he says, his voice somewhere between accusation and awe.
Mae laughs, bright and unguarded.
"Well, yeah. Figure skating because Omegas do not professionally play hockey. That is the whole point. I was raised on the ice. I just happened to be funneled into the discipline they let us compete in."
Sage skids to a stop beside Mae, patting her shoulders with both hands.
"This bitch was raised by Coach Rose, guys." She announces it to the rink at large like a town crier delivering breaking news. "You should be bowing down to her and getting every damn secret out of her brain because she could lead you lot to a victory you do not deserve."
She pauses, then tilts her head toward Mae.
"How does it feel to STILL be a badass bitch?"
Mae laughs again, the sound looser now, freer, like a knot that has been holding her chest tight is slowly unraveling.
"Brilliant. But fuck, Sage, you have gotten incredible at this. When did you get so sharp? Your passes were flawless out there."
Sage grins, pride evident.
"I actually train with Jace. Pretty regularly too. He is planning to try for the Minesto leagues in May. Has to find a pack first, though, so that is going to be a whole bunch of fun bullshit."
I frown, confusion pulling at my brow.
"Why does he have to find a pack?"
Etienne arches an eyebrow beside me, the same question forming in his expression.
"Oh?" he says, the single syllable loaded with implication.
Sage smirks, her dark eyes glinting with a secret she is clearly enjoying withholding.
"We will reserve that explanation for Jace to tell y'all himself.
Not my story to share." She waves a dismissive hand before straightening to her full, compact height.
"But for now, I am hoping to be damn lucky enough to play my shot at being the first female Omega to compete in the hockey league.
Just give me a few weeks of adjusting to the pace and I will be right there. "
I whistle, low and impressed.
"Damn, she is cocky."
Sage laughs, jabbing her thumb toward Mae.
"If you think I am cocky, then you really have not seen MaeBell in full throttle. I am the mild version. She is ruthless."
Etienne and I both turn to look at Mae simultaneously.
She grins, shy and self-deprecating, tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear.
"I am okay," she says with a shrug that is trying very hard to be modest and failing spectacularly.
"More than okay."
Coach Mercer's gruff voice arrives before his body does, skating up to our cluster with an expression that has transformed from his usual scowl into a grin that looks unnatural on his weathered face.
"Now what do I have to do to get you on this team, Rose?"
The rink goes still. Eyes from every direction lock onto Mae, who blinks at the coach with the startled expression of someone who was not expecting to be recruited after a casual demonstration.
She laughs, the sound slightly nervous for the first time today.
"Sorry, Coach, but I do not professionally play hockey." She nudges Sage with her elbow. "You can have Sage, though. She is your real prospect."
Sage groans.
"Girl, do not make me a substitute for your greatness. I am not equipped to carry that responsibility."
Mae's expression softens, the nervous energy settling into a more comfortable thoughtfulness.
"If the team actually needs help, I would not mind assisting with the strategy part," she offers carefully.
"I am not my Dad, but I am pretty good at reading plays and identifying issues.
You guys could run a full game without me, and I can observe from the sidelines and give notes after.
That is how my father always did it. Watch first, correct second. "
She pauses, her hazel eyes drifting toward the figure skating side of the rink where Vanessa's group is pretending not to listen while very clearly listening.
"I am personally here to enjoy figure skating once I get used to the university. That is what I really want to focus on. Getting back to the thing I love."
"Well, we most certainly need you on the figure skating team."
The voice arrives from the side entrance, bright and enthusiastic and belonging to a woman who looks exactly like Miss Phillips.
Except she has pink hair.
Mae frowns, squinting at the approaching figure.
"Miss Phillips? Since when did you have pink hair?"
The woman laughs, gliding onto the ice with a confidence that matches the original Miss Phillips stride for stride. She skids to a graceful stop in front of our group, her pink ponytail swinging behind her.
"The irony of twin sisters working at the same institute," she declares with a grin. "I am Miss Elizabeth Phillips. Just call me Elizabeth or Coach Lizzy for differentiation. My sister is probably lurking in the shadows somewhere. She loves to stalk my sessions."
A voice erupts from the opposite bleachers.
"Do not portray me as a stalker!"
Coach Lizzy laughs, cupping her hands around her mouth to project back across the rink.
"Well, you are proving my point, little sis!"
We all gawk as the original Miss Phillips huffs audibly from the stands, then descends the bleacher steps and walks onto the ice in her own set of skates. She glides until she is standing beside Coach Lizzy, and the effect of seeing them side by side is genuinely disorienting.
Identical. Down to the bone structure, the eye color, the height, the way they both tilt their heads when they are assessing a situation.
Mae whistles softly.
"Wow. Identical. Thank goodness for the pink hair or we would be completely doomed."
Miss Phillips lets out a short laugh.
"I had to dye it for the sake of my little sister's pack of horny students. The amount of love letters she was receiving addressed to me was getting out of hand."
Coach Lizzy blushes violently.
"Shut your trap! We are in front of students!"
"Students my ass," Miss Phillips replies, waving a hand at our group. "They are old enough to know we have lives and needs beyond grading papers and running drills."
I smirk. Mae and Sage cringe in unison. Etienne smirks beside me, his storm-blue eyes bright with amusement.
"Why are you both here?" Etienne asks, tactfully redirecting before the twin sisters can traumatize us further.
Coach Lizzy's playful demeanor shifts into professional sincerity.
"I need the support to convince a certain ice legend in the making to join the figure skating team.
" She turns to Mae, her expression warm and earnest. "What you did out there was extraordinary.
The way you move on the ice, the body control, the spatial awareness.
You are not just talented, Mae. You are generational. "
Mae's cheeks flush.
"Nah, I am not good enough yet," she says quickly, the dismissal reflexive and immediate. "I have not trained seriously in years. I am rusty and out of shape and probably could not land a triple axel right now if my life depended on it."
"You are more than good enough," Coach Lizzy and Miss Phillips say in perfect unison, then exchange a glance that communicates an entire conversation in a single look.
"Please," Coach Lizzy adds. "At least think about it. We would give you time to train, ramp up at your own pace. No pressure for immediate competition readiness."
Coach Mercer clears his throat.
"And if we offered a temporary strategy coaching position for the hockey team, would you be willing to consider that as well?"
Mae gawks at him, her hazel eyes widening.
"I would have to think about it," she says carefully. "That sounds like a lot. I just started school yesterday. I am still figuring out where my classes are and whether the cafeteria serves food that is actually edible."
She pauses, chewing her lower lip in a way that betrays the internal battle between wanting to say yes and being terrified of commitment after years of having everything she committed to ripped away.
"But as long as it does not conflict with my classes or anything, I am open to discussing it."
Coach Lizzy nods, her expression pleased.
"The official auditions for the figure skating tournament will be right before Valentine's Day, and the final game for the initial hockey playoffs will be the day before that. Aside from those dates, there should be no scheduling conflicts."
Mae considers this, her gaze going distant for a moment as she runs calculations behind those hazel eyes.
"Can I get back to you?" she asks. "Both of you? I just need a day or two to think it through."
"Take all the time you need," Miss Phillips says, and Coach Mercer nods in agreement.
The moment feels settled. Decided. A reasonable conclusion to an extraordinary afternoon.
And then Rafe crashes into it like a wrecking ball.
He skates up to the group with the aggressive energy of a man who has been silently stewing on the sidelines and has finally reached his boiling point. His gray eyes are sharp, his jaw set, his scent flaring with leather and burnt cedar in a way that screams territorial agitation.
"Y'all see her do some flashy moves once and now you are offering her positions left and right?" He gestures at the group with his stick. "Strategy coach? Figure skating team? What is next, a statue in the lobby?"
I chuckle, unable to resist.
"You sound jealous, Beaumont."
His jaw tightens.
"I am not jealous. I am realistic. She is fast, fine, I will give her that. But fast does not mean she can beat me. I am the fucking captain. I have been training on ice since I could walk. I can outskate her any day of the week."
Etienne lets out a low whistle, crossing his arms.
"You better not challenge MaeMae, Rafe. You will be disappointed."
Rafe's chin lifts, pride and stubbornness colliding in the set of his shoulders.
"I can beat her easily. Bring it on."
Every set of eyes in the vicinity lands on Mae.
She blinks, her expression shifting into wide-eyed innocence that I am beginning to recognize as the calm before her particular brand of storm.
"Um..." She tilts her head, pretending to consider the offer like it is a mild inconvenience rather than the challenge she has been waiting for since she arrived at this school. "I guess I can do a quick race."
She pauses, glancing at the clock on the scoreboard.
"But after that, I need to leave in like three minutes. Library closes soon and I want to check out some books before they lock up."
She just agreed to race the hockey captain and her primary concern is the library closing time. This girl is clinically insane. And I am completely, irreversibly fascinated by her.
Coach Mercer grins.
"Perfect. Get to the other end of the ice, you two."